


Open Water

by MermaidsandMermen (SophiaSoames)



Category: Druck | SKAM (Germany), SKAM (Norway), Skam (Austin), Skam - Fandom
Genre: Doctor!Even, Loads of smut because I kinda like it, M/M, Panic Attacks, SingleDad!Even, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, VGS teacher!Isak, another selfindulgent mess of feelings, extreme anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-04-22 09:30:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 96,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14305773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophiaSoames/pseuds/MermaidsandMermen
Summary: Meet Isak Valtersen, Mentor Teacher in Biology and Maths at Hartvig Nissen's VGS. He fucks up when it comes to men. He makes sure his students fucking pass his classes. And he is trying to sort his life out. Honestly. He can't keep living like this.Meet Even Bech. Emergency room Doctor. Single Dad. Has no idea how he has managed to fuck up parenthood this bad. He didn't mean to, he just hasn't got a clue how to deal with the son he loves to the point of insanity. He knows that he is heading out to sea without a paddle, he just doesn't know how to stop it.Meet Max Bech. 17. Gay AF. Emotional wreck with no future, no skills and no clue. All he knows is that he is in love. Helplessly. Desperately. And unrequited. Of course. What else did he expect? It's not like his life is going to get any better.Welcome to Open Water.Title from the poem Åbne vande by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Oh Fuck it. I wasn't going to start another fic. I wasn't. Honestly. But whatever. 
> 
> Husk at all skjønnhet på jord bor i de evige ord: Jeg elsker deg.  
> citat Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
> 
> I totally blame Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson, for writing a load of poetry I got stuck reading. I also blame Tarjei for his damn stubble that completely created some filthy ideas for this fic. I also totally blame myself. I will never learn.
> 
> This is going to start dark, but trust me, there will be two complete disasters of men here to figure out, and I fully intend to mess with them and sort them out and give them their happy ending over a little crash course in humanity, and eating humble pie and manning the fuck up. 
> 
> Then you will have the honor of meeting the gorgeous mess of a man that is Max Bech. You have been warned. 
> 
> come yell at me on social media @sophiasoames. Be kind Be Nice Always.

**Prologue**

I have always been terrified of water. Especially large outdoor pools and lakes and the fucking sea. I remember it vividly as a kid, Dad trying to get me to dip my toes in the freezing shite and all the sand and the sharp rocks and me screaming like he was trying to axe- murder me in public on a warm summer’s day.

 

I hated the waves. The sounds of the water crashing against the stones. I hated the smell of salt and the screams of children playing. I hated everything.

 

I remember Dad pulling me close and his voice shushing against my hair trying to calm me down. It took a long time before I stopped sobbing. It took a lot of sobbing until Dad stopped taking me to the beach. Until he cancelled the fucking swimming lessons and renovated the bathroom installing a massive fuck-off shower instead of the dusty bathtub that was the stuff of my worst nightmares.

 

It didn’t stop the fear though. Because the waves crashing against me is how my panic attacks always start. I can almost see it coming towards me, like a huge tsunami of anxiety and terror that I have no way of stopping. It is coming, loud and roaring and paralyzing my body, turning my muscles to unusable slabs of jelly whilst my breath strangles me and my mouth screams in panic of what is about to happen. It’s inevitable. Nothing ever happens. It's all in my head.

 

My therapist is trying to teach me to visualise holding the tsunami back.

 

It’s not working.

 

How can you hold something back that is so overwhelming? So huge and all-consuming that it takes over from reality? I know it’s not real. I’m not stupid. But my brain is broken and my head believes that every little single molecule of what is making me freeze up and sob like a kid, is, in fact, very very real.

 

It’s like there are a million people in my head screaming and arguing and trying to make sense of what is going on, whilst this death inducing monster of a wave is coming at me and I have no way of escape. It just hits me. Covers me and drowns me whilst I fight it and scream and try to swim out of it even though I know deep down it will always win.

 

I will never escape. I will never win. I drown every fucking time.

 

Welcome to my life. It doesn’t get any better.

 


	2. Mannfolk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Og hva oss mannfolk angår, så - har jo også vi våre feil; men vi er i grunnen ganske morsomme.  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

The light is almost blinding in it’s intensity through the classroom windows, dancing around on the walls as the students mill out of the door amongst the slow sounds of ringtones and pings from smartphones and the unmistakable drawls of teenaged laughter. He is still in full teacher mode, throwing back lame insults at the boys as they throw a last taunt at him, trying to rail him of his constant cheery disposition that works wonders on the little shits that inhabit his classroom.

 

Isak Valtersen is a good teacher. And being a good teacher was his full intention when he plonked his then skinny arse on the flap down chair on his first day of University. He had great plans. Huge ideas of his own worth and self-importance until his priorities changed. Until he studied too much and lived too fast and hard and fate kind of walked him into an invisible wall and smashed his life into unfixable splinters.

 

He didn’t plan on his life becoming what it has become. Yet he is happy. Because this, this right here, is actually his life. A life that is good, healthy and manageable.

 

Isak Valtersen runs every morning, then has a healthy breakfast full of superfoods and vitamins and fibres that makes his visits to the toilet the next regular morning routine of his day. He catches the 7.14 train from Kolsås station to Majorstua, with his headphones blasting out pop songs he is far too old for. Young voices and beats that he picks up from his students and devours on Spotify, making playlists to suit his mood as he mindlessly grades essays and checks assignments, mentally adding items to his lesson plans for the day.

 

His body is lean and muscular. The designer stubble he carefully grows on his chin, hopefully fulfilling the idea that he looks older, wiser and subtly sexier than he honestly is. He hopes. The clothes he wears are what he tries to describe to himself as ‘muted hipster cool’, because unlike the teachers he remembers from his own days being a student at Hartvig Nissen’s VGS, now that he teaches there himself, he refuses to be the butt of anyone’s jokes. He pays attention to fashion, updating his wardrobe with essential items to keep his style on trend. He likes the skinny jeans that hug his arse. Prefers tight T-shirts cradling his biceps. Shirts that cover his arms but still show of the bulge of his forearms. His hair is longer than it probably should be but he likes it. He looks good. He is a handsome man despite the specks of grey he frequently finds in his blonde curls and the crow’s feet that have become a permanent fixture on his face.

 

Isak Valtersen might have been a cocky little shit at 17, and a total terror at 18, but now somewhere lost in his mid-thirties, he is fine. He’s made peace with himself. He might not have become Stephen Hawking, or taken over the world, but he is making a difference every day. He sleeps well at night, especially now that he is OK. Where the dull ache of heartbreak has faded into a questionable embarrassment around how he could have been so gullible. Stupid even, again falling for a man who would never leave the safety of his marriage for an uncertain future with someone like Isak.

It's a quirk of his, a stupid thing wired into his brain, just the challenge of figuring out the subtle vibes he picks up on. The married men questioning their life choices. The older men with their fucking reckless midlife crisis’s where they figure a little experimentation with cock will do them good. Where Isak once again had been helplessly drawn into the thrill of the chase. The games and flirts. The shameful release of taking that precious moment from someone, where they would finally see it. Finally let themselves realize that loving and lusting over another man could be just as mind-blowingly real and overwhelming as in their shame filled closeted nightmares.

 

He should have known better, especially since Espen had been a colleague, a married father of 3 with a delicious arse and a twinkle in his eye. Isak had broken him, from the very first innocent smile, a friendly hand on his shoulder. A series of innocent touches. A friendly beer after work. Standing a little bit to close. Just close enough to feel his breath hitch. To see the creep of blush under the collar. The faint waft of sweat, pearls of fluid gathering at the temples as eyes would close and Isak would go in for the kill. He had it all down to a fine art, seducing the straight dude.

 

It never ended well and made Isak an arsehole. He deserved everything he had got. He deserved the tears, the fear and the heartbreak. He should have stepped away the moment those words had left Espen’s lips. My wife. My kids. My life.

 

Espen now lived alone in a sublet 1-bedroom apartment in the bad part of the worst suburb, having fucked up everything he had held dear for a few weeks of mind-blowing sex with a man like Isak. A man with no shame, no sense and no clue how to make things right. And whilst Isak had slowly rebuilt his broken heart and tried to forget the fact that he had behaved like an imbecile love-sick twat, Espen was still desperately trying to get regular access to his children and make his estranged wife speak to him without crying.

 

It was a mess. It had all become a mess. And it had ended over a year ago.

 

Not that Isak had any contact with Espen, having been blocked on every platform in a fit of rage, both of them in the death-throes of the lingering shred of what had been. Both of them just shells of the people they had fallen in love with. Broken shadows of the men they had become.

 

Espen had transferred to a different school and Isak hadn’t seen him in months. He only knew from the gossip in the teachers’ lounge. The glances of worry and fear from a few colleagues who still remembered that it was all Isak’s fault. That he was the one. The one who had caused the avalanche of destruction of an innocent family.  
It wouldn’t happen again. Isak had learned his lesson, from now on it would be a single man’s life for him. He was too old for clubbing and picking up strangers for a quick fuck. Grindr scared the living daylights out of him. He had a fully functioning hand to get himself off when the need came on, and for the rest of the time he would try to make amends. He would be the best teacher he could be. Kind and understanding. Hip and cool enough to make his students trust his judgement (which was questionable at the best of times), yet adult enough to ensure the kids who needed him would confide in him.

 

And to be very honest, his work week had him in an over-social tailspin most of the time, spending 8 hours per day constantly interacting with people, talking and teaching, staying on top of his game to keep his classroom in a state of manageable calm with all eyes on him. When he kicked off his trainers at the end of the day all he wanted was silence. He would sit on his threadbare sofa, a relic from his university days, and just stare into the darkness until his mind would be too heavy to care.

 

Especially now that it was evaluation-talk season for the students he was assigned to mentor. The week when the students who were failing were brought in with their parents so the school could offer some misguided illusion of support, when in reality it was more often a shitfest of familiar tragedies played out in the empty classroom, giving an insight into levels of dysfunctionality and fear that made Isak shiver. He would try to meet the students gaze, try to speak with his eyes. Say hey kid, I see this. I see you. We can’t fix this but I see you. Please know that I do.

 

That is why he is here. That is why he had fallen head first into a teaching degree, because along the way he had had teachers who had seen him. Who had looked at him that way and said just that. I see you. I know. I get it kid. You are not alone. You may think life is unbearable right now but trust me. There is light, and when you find it, you will be fine. Life will get better. It always does.

 

He has to deal with the Magnusson kid today. He can’t wait for summer when the last of the Magnusson clan will get out of his hair, with their spoiled, over-achieving kids, parents with illusions of grandeur over their perfect little darlings, who have made his life a living hell for the last 3 years. The youngest one, Carolina, has almost driven Isak to write out his email of resignation and consider pushing the damn send button so many times he woke up drenched in sweat, thinking he might just have made another clusterfuck of his life.

 

The other kid he is dealing with today is a completely different story. He’s retaking year 2 after an incident at the neighbouring VGS, something that is so buried and twisted in cover up’s that the headteacher couldn’t even begin to make it up.

 

Max Bech. He’s a weird kid. Works hard but is obviously troubled way beyond Isak’s experience. Spends most of his time in class so lost in his head, that Isak sometimes struggles to get him to stand up at the end of the lesson. On top of that he has a filthy mouth on him, and a completely erratic temper. According to the teacher’s lounge gossip, the kid has frequent panic attacks in between lessons. He has also failed to turn in a single assignment in Isak’s class, which is quite a problem since failing Biology means the kid won’t graduate. And that is something Isak Valtersen just doesn’t do. He still has a flawless record of never having failed a kid. His kids pass his classes, however hard he has to push them. Failure is not an option. Not as long as Isak is here.


	3. Legemer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Det er med menneskene som med stjernene: Der finnes selvlysende legemer som gir kraft og sol til andre.  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

 

Even should never have been allowed to parent. It’s not that he doesn’t love the strange boy that he shares his life with. He absolutely adores his son, loves every little molecule in his far too skinny body. He would get off this bloody train right now and lay himself down on the tracks in front of the slightly smelly carriage he is on, he would. Right now, if it made Max’s life easier to bear.

  


He doesn’t understand how a 17-year-old kid can be so hard to deal with. And to be truthful Max is almost an adult. A grown up. A responsible young man with a bright future. He hopes. Fuck he would do anything to just make it better. To make Max see what an amazing kid he is. What an amazing life he could have if he could just try. A tiny little bit. Just for him.

  


Not that he blames Max. He has had a shit upbringing at times, when Even didn’t get it. When he didn’t see all the signs, the subtle hints. Even is a fucking doctor of Medicine. He has a surgical degree and has spent the last 15 years putting the fine population of Oslo back together at the Oslo University Hospital’s emergency room, saving lives, one suture at a time. Yet he didn’t even see it coming. He couldn’t spot his own son becoming more and more unwell.

  


His son is amazing. His son is a fucking twat. He loves him so much he sometimes thinks his heart is going to burst. The next minute he wants to smash his fist into the kid’s frankly filthy mouth.

  


They are so alike. Like they were steeped in the same mould, and to be honest it scares him. The same tall lanky bodies, impossibly long unruly hair that refuses to be defined at anything but mousy blonde, however many different highlight disasters the two of them have been roped into by their longstanding mess of a hairdresser. He needs to stop going to Vilde for his haircuts. Well to be totally honest Even and Max both need to get a grip. Stop being so damn gullible and vain thinking that golden highlights will suit and aging surgeon and his sulky grumpy kid. Because they both look like they have dressed in the dark and been dragged through a hedge backwards most mornings. On top of it they went out and bought a house that neither of them has ever figured out how to live in and spend most of their time slamming doors and screaming at eachother.

  


Their vocabulary seems to consist of a few set phrases. ‘’Did you take your medicine?’’ ‘’Shut up’’ ‘’I need money’’ ‘’Fuck off’’ and an awful lot of ‘’Mind your own fucking business.’’

It's not healthy. It’s not the relationship he envisioned when he became a single father at the tender age of 20 something, in the middle of his studies with his whole life planned out in front of him.

  


It would have been fine if it had been Sonja. He could have co-parented with Sonja. They would have worked it out. He could have settled for Sonja, however many times they broke up and got back together. No, he had to go and knock up some random chick on a night out, too drunk out of his head to realize he never put a condom on it. It had been stupid. Reckless. Idiotic. The final nail on the coffin of his long-doomed relationship with Sonja.

  


Max’s mother had been great about it, honestly. She could have kept her mouth shut and given the kid away. Put him up for adoption. Let her parents raise him. She had had several options. Instead she had been frank and direct, told him to man up and get ready. Because she would birth this baby, and whilst she was no way near ready to be a parent, he was. Apparently, the universe had decided he was. And a few months later he collected his tiny mess of a son from the hospital, signing the paperwork for sole custody right next to where she had signed her parental rights away.

  


To be honest, the first years had been easy. He did good. Their lives had been idyllic. So innocent and happy. Life had been amazing. Until things had gotten hard.

  


Even doesn’t remember when it started, the subtle changes. Well he had not even noticed until it was too late. Until the relationship with his beloved amazing child had crumbled to the point where they would sit quietly and stare into the walls, not knowing where on earth to even start  unravelling the mountains of unspoken words that had built a wall between the two of them.

  


He misses Max. Misses the relationship they once had now lost to the innocence of childhood. Max had slept next to Even every night until just after his 16th birthday. Until right before his first episode of hypomania that catapulted the two of them into the abyss of adulthood. Where words had become weapons and affection was something in the past.

  


He can’t remember the last time he hugged his son. The last time he woke up with the mess of soft hair against his back. Because Max used to be just as tactile as Even is, full of hugs and hands and laughter. Even can’t even remember the last time he heard Max laugh. The last time he saw him smile.

  


This was not the way he envisioned growing old, alone and frightened of even bringing up the fact that the way they are living their life is becoming unsustainable.

  


He still loves him, to the point of insanity. He does. He screams and shouts and calls him names, regretting it immediately throwing himself at the locked door between them, apologizing profusely whilst Max retreats even further into the silence he seems to prefer these days.

  


But anyway, Even is doing the little bits. He’s doing the only bit he can do right now, being there. Swishing another stash of guilt money into his son's account. Buying fancy convenience foods that seem to mysteriously disappear from their mess of a fridge, leaving dirty dishes and cups growing bacteria in the sink.

  


**Do you want to go to IKEA after the meeting tonight? I was thinking we could just throw everything that is festering in the damn sink in the bin. Just replace it with new stuff. I can’t be bothered to clean it up. Dad**

  


There probably won’t be an answer. He knows Max too well, he will just dismiss Even’s pathetic attempt at communicating. His complete fails at humouring the kid.

  


**Pathetic Dad. A) you don’t need to sign every text with Dad. I know it’s you texting me. B) Just stating the obvious, you will be hopping mad when you find out how many subjects I am failing. Just giving you a fair warning. We won’t be going anywhere together soon since you will probably kill me before we even get to the train. I am not sleeping at home tonight. Tough.**

  


Even just smiles. It’s at least something.

  


**Yes, you are. I am still your father and as such I can demand your presence. For fucks sake Max, just hang out with me for a change.**

  


There we go. He is already losing his shit. Pressing send before he can rein himself and his fucking mouth in. Or his texting finger. Whatever.

  


**And subject myself to your snarky lectures on how I am completely messing up my future prospects? No thanks.**

  


Touché.

  


**Can we at least be civil? Please? Talk to me. What subjects are you failing? I promise I won’t be mad.**

  


Even will lose his shit. He usually does, especially since Max knows how to push all his buttons. Every fucking one.

  


**Biology, Maths and Drama. Fine?**

  


Fuck’s sake. At least he is trying. Taking a deep breath before letting his fingers tap across the screen.

  


**You love Drama. It’s what you wanted to get into? Why you chose Nissen over Munch? How can you be failing Drama? Not having a go but I thought you liked it?**

  


He is trying. Honestly. And failing miserably, letting a sigh escape from his lungs. He shouldn’t have sent that. He knows better than to argue.

  


**Drama is full of wankers.**

  
Deep breath **.**

  


**It’s not the end of the world. I’m sure you have options to sort this out. I am here to help, remember? Let me help. Please.**

  


There is no reply. He types out a few sentences, deleting them straight away. There is nothing he can say that won’t make this worse. Whatever he says won’t make any difference.

  


**I will meet you at 5 by the C entrance. I love you.**

  


He smiles. He can almost see Max reaction in front of him, rolling his eyes in disgust over those words. They never say them. It’s just stupid.

 

 


	4. Briste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hans hjerte var nær ved å briste,  
> men det var der ingen som visste.  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

I know I should at least try, but to be honest. I can’t see the point.

I can’t see the point of even finishing school, however much everyone seems to think that that should be the obvious thing to do. It’s not like I am ever going to become something worthwhile. Because I won’t. That’s pretty obvious.

  


I’ve never been good at studying. Never been bright and intelligent enough. I’m the one that fails all the tests. Who forgets to study for the fucking exams. The dude who when he tried to do his homework got all confused and handed in the wrong fucking assignment. It’s just a mess. Everything is a mess.

  


The only thing I used to really like about school was Drama. I mean that. I used to fucking love it, and apparently, I was good at it. At finding that place in me when I could let go.

  


Jonas, the Drama nerd of a teacher, said I was good. That I was really good. He kept saying I had comic timing and that my face could express a million emotions. He said it was a gift. I have no idea what the dude has been smoking.

 

Because it’s not like the world has gifted me anything good. I mean even my own mother didn’t want me. Signed away her parental rights even before the umbilical cord had been cut. And yeah, it makes a great excuse to wallow in self-pity over. At least I have my Dad. My Dad who is a complete twat half of the time, and the rest of the time I honestly don’t know what planet he is on.

 

I even look like him. Well I did until this morning when I locked myself in the disabled toilets at school and dyed my hair black. I just thought it would be a good idea. Well it made sense in my head this morning, kind of like changing my hair colour would make the fucking school problems disappear. Like I could pretend it wasn’t me that has to go and sit in a classroom after hours and listen to my Mentor teacher spill all my failures to my Dad. My Dad who will be sitting there pulling his fingers through his mop of hair and sighing loudly wondering what the hell happened to the idea of his perfect textbook son.

 

Well tough Dad. He doesn’t exist. Instead my Dad got stuck with me. A tall skinny kid with bad skin and a brain that is broken. Because I am that kid. The kid that just doesn’t fit the mould.

 

I am riddled with anxieties to the point that I can barely function. I am fucked in the head. Fact. And I am failing my 3 main subjects at school. Hipp hipp fucking hooray.

  


Anyway, I can’t go back to drama, because _he_ is there. Him. The boy with the most amazing smile. The gorgeous eyes. The tightest arse in the history of tight arses. Yup. That’s the kind of things I notice. Boys. I like boys. With all the freaking problems I have stacked up against me, a mother that didn’t want a kid, a dad who is a complete twat, a diagnosis with Bipolar Disorder, and on top of that I am ugly as hell, too tall, too skinny, covered in acne and hey, yup. I’m gay. Not bi, not confused, not pan not anything else. I am into dick, and dick only. I’ve never even looked at straight porn, have never had a girl look twice at me anyway and never been kissed. Not that any boys have looked at me either, I’m just not like that. I’m the kid that flies under the radar. Silent. Quiet. A bit of attitude to keep people from getting too close.

Not that anyone knows, because that is not the kind of person I am. I don’t speak up, don’t tell anyone anything about myself. Until that fucking drama lesson.

  


I messed up, OK? Got caught up in the moment, in the thrill of the game we were playing. I blame fucking damn idiotic shit-eating pot-smoking Jonas. Bloody overgrown hippie. We were supposed to write a character description of someone in a play. Use ourselves as a guide to what we would be portrayed as on stage, along with the deepest darkest secret of this character we would create. Something our character would never have told anyone. Then we would use all these roles for our next production and make something that was honest. A realistic play about kids our age. The stuff going on in our heads that people didn’t see on the outside. Fucking pompous piece of shit idea.

  


Then Jonas stood there with this look of awe on his face, reading out our secrets to the room whilst he was sat right there. _Him_. My crush. The man of my dreams. My dream prince. God. I have fucked him up really good in my head. Dreamt of every possible scenario where he would become mine. I have crazy-jizzed all over my sheets, with hazy images of him moaning underneath me, enough times that I can barely stand sleeping in my own mess of a bed, because to be honest my bed is disgusting. Filthy.

  


I’m filthy in my head too. Messed up. I doubt normal people fantasize over the stuff that goes on in my daydreams. Because that’s where I tend to hang out. In my head. I have messed up most of my other school subjects as well, because I am just so behind that there is no point of catching up.

  


I had another episode after the Drama class disaster. I can’t believe I did it. Oh fucking hell. I am such an idiot.

  


I can’t quite control that shit, when my head goes into a tailspin. When my thoughts just won’t slow down. It could be that I messed around with my meds. It could be that I wasn’t paying attention to shit. But mostly it was because I wrote down the stuff I shouldn’t have told anyone. I made shit real, and I lost the plot. Completely.

  


I almost fold in on myself with the self-inflicted embarrassment of even thinking back to that moment. Not that anyone is noticing me, sat on the plastic chair in the corner of the Cafeteria where I usually hide out when I don’t have to be in class.

 

At least I haven’t had a panic attack today. I have felt surprisingly calm about the whole idea of Dad coming in and all my failings being laid on the table. In a way it will be good. I don’t have to carry all these secrets on my own if Dad knows everything. Then they won’t be secrets anymore. And to be honest Isak, my Mentor, is pretty cool. He might even have some kind of idea how I can get away with it. How I can do something. Not to fix it, because I have learnt that I can’t fix shit. But maybe there is something that would help. A plan we can make to make life a little easier. Which my Dad will no doubt overthink and turn into something massive and we will end up screaming at eachother in front of Isak. Yeah. That will kind of happen whatever happends. Today will never end well.

 

He’s standing outside the C entrance right on time, coat tightly wrapped around himself and an almost burnt out cigarette but hanging between his lips.

 

‘’You need to stop smoking’’ I hiss at him. Like a greeting. As we do. All whilst he takes the butt out of his mouth and hands it to me so I can take the last dying drag out of the damn thing. Another thing we do. He’s a crap Dad. We have smoked together since the day he caught me stealing one of his cigarettes after a particularly bad day. Neither of us had the energy to fight anymore, so instead of giving me shit about not smoking and bad habits and my health, he just lit one for me and we had sat in silence watching the fading light over the trees behind the house. It’s the only time we don’t hate on eachother. When we are killing ourselves with nicotine and tar. We are a mess. What the hell.

 

He takes the steps up to the second floor in wide strides, two steps at a time, whilst I hang back hoping to become invisible as soon as we step through the door to the class room. The class room where Isak has already put four desks together to form a little table where we can sit and have our ‘’informal chat’’ as he preferred to call it. Instead of calling it the ‘’final warning of failure’’ which is more likely. We know the drill here, since we did this whole charade at Bakka last year. The sighs and disappointments and realization that there was no way I would graduate. That there was no way I would even finish year 2, after what I had done. Or hadn’t. I was basically fucked. As I am now.

 

‘’Hi! I’m Isak, Max’ Mentor...’’ Isak starts, standing up and reaching out his hand to shake Dad’s.

 

Yet he doesn’t. He stands there staring at Dad like he has seen a fucking ghost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. This is as much as you are getting today. I hope it has pulled you in enough to want to follow the rest of this story. I am going to work on Infinity next but this should get updated regularly now as I am so excited to share it with you! xxx


	5. Ensom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ensom - det er å være opptatt av seg og sitt.  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

‘’Dad!!’’ Max pants from behind. His footfall sharp and loud against the pavement.

Even is half running down Skoveien with his coat open like a cape behind him. Like some escaping batmanesque lunatic running away from his son’s teacher. Like he isn’t a complete coward. Because he is. He is behaving like he is 18 all over again. It just took that, a few steps inside that damn building and all the shit he has spent his entire adult life trying to forget came crashing back in an instant. Fucking fucking fucking shit on a twitstick.

‘’Why didn’t you tell me he was your teacher?’’ He half shouts not even turning around to check that Max is still behind him. ‘’You could have fucking told me. Given me some warning.’’

Even’s voice is hard. Stressed and he stops dead on the pavement to get the packet of cigarettes out of his pocket. Not only are his hands shaking so hard he can’t even get the damn cellophane off the packet but he freaking drops his lighter and he can’t stand still and he doesn’t know where to even look.

‘’How the fuck was I supposed to know? Do you know him from before or something? You have never mentioned anyone called fucking Isak, so how was I supposed to know to tell you? The fuck Dad? Don’t make everything my fault.’’ Max rips the cigarette lid of and throws a Marlboro gold between his teeth. He does it so effortlessly, that it makes Even almost green with jealousy in the coolness of it all. Because Even is old and fucking useless and can barely make his fingers function from the rage in his body.  
Fucking Isak Valtersen. Of all the fucking people in the fucking world.

He takes a long satisfying drag of the cigarette. Closes his eyes for a second as Max just stares at him. Stands there with that look on his face. Like he is trying to find just the right cutting remark to stab him in the chest with.

At the same time, he actually looks. Well. Amused?

‘’So How do you know Isak Valtersen?’’ Max asks. And god damn if there isn’t a smirk on his fucking face.

‘’I need a drink.’’ Is all Even can come up with as he turns on his heel and starts walking back up the road. Hoping that Max will follow. He needs a drink. And a couple of packets of cigarettes. And some Valium. And his head examined. Honestly.

‘’Dad!!’’

Yes. Even is almost running, taking the doorway with a swift swing of his hip as he swans into the Forrest and Brown Pub, stopping only to stomp out his cigarette on the ground by the doorway. Like some entitled twat.

Fucking hell Dad, Max thinks as he bends down and picks up the butt so he can place it in the designated metal urn by the door. Where normal people plonk their fucking Cigarette ends. Normal people who talk to their kids and don’t freak out over some fucking teacher. Not that they even got to have their ‘informal chat’ since Even had just stormed out the door dragging Max with him by the sleeve of his jacket.

‘’Two large strong beers’’ Even says to the bartender waving his phone over the Apple pay reader whilst he is rubbing his forehead with his knuckles.  
‘’Dad’’ Max tries, but Even just waves his hand to dismiss him.

Ok.

Whatever.

They find a table and Even sits down taking a large gulp of the beer before even hitting the seat.

‘’Did he shag your girlfriend or something?’’ Max asks. I mean he has to start somewhere.  
‘’Fuck off’’ Even mutters.

OK.

‘’I’m not old enough to drink Dad. Legally you have just totally broken the law.’’  
‘’Fuck the hell off’’ Even almost whimpers.  
‘’Talk Dad. What the hell freaked you out? Because you are kind of scaring me now.’’

He is as well, gulping down the beer in large mouthfuls and not even looking up. Whilst Max doesn’t even dare to take a sip out of the drink in front of him. He’s not supposed to have Alcohol. He’s not supposed to drink in a pub. He’s not supposed to talk to his Dad. Not like this. His Dad is supposed to be normal. Not sweating and panting and looking like he is about to pass out.

‘’So, did you shag his girlfriend then? Slag off his Boyfriend? You know he’s gay, don’t you?’’

Even just whimpers and sticks an unlit cigarette in his mouth. Sucks on hit like it is some kind of lifesaving miracle oxygen.

‘’Dad you look like you are having a panic attack. Seriously dude. Breathe.’’

It’s not often Max worries about his Dad. But right now, his skin is grey and his hands are shaking and he won’t even look at Max. Just grabs his beer with a shaky hand and takes another loud gulp.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Because Even has spent years and years perfecting the speech he would hold if he ever laid eyes on Isak Valtersen again. He has tweaked it and twisted it and changed the words so many times in his head, that his thoughts kind of spin with confusion on how he couldn’t get a single word to come out of his mouth. It had happened. He had stood right there in front of him, in all his Isak-ness. Still unmistakably him. Still with that arrogant eyebrow cocked and the anger radiating from his eyes and the mouth. That fucking mouth on him. Even has to close his eyes. It’s just. Fuck. Fuck Fuck Fuck.

‘’Dad, I am the drama queen in this family, come on, don’t take that from me as well. If you are going to freak and cause a scene then I am leaving.’’

Max takes a long defiant gulp out of his beer. All whilst his eyes are twinkling and he is doing that thing. Being all Max and normally Even would have shouted something un- repeatable and rude at his beloved son. Swatted him playfully over the head. Threatened him with withdrawing the rumoured bottomless pit of money that he will always gladly spend on his only child. If he only shows a tiny ounce of gratitude and respect and understanding that his father is actually a human being with feelings that need a little bit of kindness. Just a tiny bit. Just fucking tell me you still love me. Even though I am an arsehole most of the time I am your Dad and I fucking love you to the end of the earth and back. Not that he will say that. Because. Just because.

‘’I need a hug’’ He blurts out. Like the idiot he is and Max cackles from the other side of the table.

‘’Ok Dad.’’ He says softly. Shaking his head and playing with the pack of cigarettes on the table between them.

‘’Fuck it. Let’s go home’’ Even sighs and sweeps the dregs of his pint down. Banging the glass down on the wooden table top a little harder than he should have.

‘’No’’ Max almost sounds triumphant. ‘’I haven’t finished my pint, and then after we can go back and speak to Isak. I still need to finish school’’  
‘’You are changing schools. Easy.’’  
‘’I like Nissen. I’m not changing schools again.’’  
‘’I’m not even dealing with this now’’ Even tries but Max cuts him off.  
‘’This is how you deal with everything Dad. You remember when Anne Mette asked you out for a date? Instead of letting her down and saying no, you fired her and changed to a different cleaning agency. Anne Mette was brilliant. We both loved her. And you fucked it up. Then remember when I scratched the neighbour’s car with my bike? We moved house. You could have just apologized.’’

Even just groans again.

‘’You can’t just run away from everything Dad. It makes you look like an arsehole.’’  
‘’I am an arsehole.’’ Even is. He knows it.  
‘’You are not an arsehole. Not all the time.’’  
‘’I am. I know people hate me. I didn’t even get an invite to the ER Christmas party.’’  
‘’Yes, you did, it was a Facebook thing. I saw it.’’  
‘’I don’t have Facebook.’’ Even looks almost too pleased with himself.  
‘’You have Facebook. And I have your password.’’  
‘’You said you deleted it? I mean we only set it up to see if we could stalk your Mum.’’  
‘’Yeah and then I reactivated it. So I could snoop on you. You are fucking boring on Facebook but you actually did get invited. You should check it sometimes. You might make some friends.’’  
‘’Fuck off. I don’t need friends.’’  
‘’Everyone needs friends. You should try it.’’  
‘’It’s not like you have a load of mates who hang around and invite you to parties.’’

  
Good line Even. Dad of the year. Yeah. That one will have hurt.

  
‘’Fuck off Dad. I’m fine OK? I don’t need all that shit.’’  
Max is looking down again. Way to go Even. Good call. They are actually talking. Having a conversation. Socializing with eachother. Trying. And you have to be an arse about it all.

‘’Sorry. I was out of line.’’ Even sighs. ‘’Do you want another beer?’’

Max nods. Still not looking up. It’s bad enough he hasn’t really had anyone come over to the house to hang out since he was what? Twelve? Max never made friends easily. He had never been popular and invited to all the birthday parties. Never had a best friend. Even knows all this and he is still throwing out comments like that without thinking.  
‘’I love you Max. Whatever this is we will sort this out. We will fix this. Find a way of you graduating and then we will think about Uni or jobs or gap years or whatever you want to do. It’s OK. Honestly. I’ve got your back. You know I do.’’

Max just snorts under that long fringe that covers his face. It’s black again. He hadn’t noticed. How the hell hadn’t he noticed.

‘’I like the hair. It suits you. And I like the stubble when you don’t shave, makes you look all grown up. Not like the kid I wish you still were. You were such an amazing kid. My best friend in the whole world. It was just you and me against the world and we rocked. We did.’’

‘’And now I am just a fucking disappointment?’’ Max doesn’t even look up.

‘’You are never going to be a disappointment’’ Even tries. His voice soft, and his hand reaching out to touch the long fingers in front of him. The nails covered in chipped black varnish. Bitten and scratched in frustration. He remembers it well from his own angst-ridden teens. He doesn’t envy Max, he hated those years. The anger and fear and confusion and sheer desperation that had filled his head until he found himself being a father.

‘’You saved me.’’ he starts but Max just pulls his hand away. Stands up with a jerk and pulls his jacket over his shoulders.

‘’Let’s go’’ He snorts and walks off. So Even follows. Because right now there is nothing else he can do.


	6. Fornuft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Det var ikke annet for meg å gjøre enn å slå meg på fornuften.  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

Isak has been completely out of it the entire evening. He tried, tried hard to zone in and make his mouth say things that actually made sense. He messed up. Over and over again. Got the wrong notes out for the wrong kid and called the kids the wrong names and. Well. The poor parents left probably feeling more confused than they had been coming in for the meetings he had so meticulously planned out.

All because of Even Bech Næsheim. Bloody hell. Well if Isak had done his homework properly and checked Max' records he might have found a few hints. Because now that he is looking it’s actually there in black and white. Previous meetings attended by his father. Even Bech. Fuck knows what happened to the Næsheim. Probably dropped it so he could never be found by all the fucking people in the world that probably wanted the wanker dead. Including Isak.

No that is not fair because Isak wouldn’t wish death and destruction on anyone and up till an hour ago Isak had nursed a soft spot for Max Bech. Wished him well. Wanted to help, nurture what was obviously a troubled young man into something amazing. Give him strength and pride in having overcome this hiccup in his education. Because it’s not that bad. Isak has seen worse. So what if he has low grades in every subject, apart from Drama?. He has a fucking 6 in Drama. Which means Isak needs another work chat with Jonas, because if that is something Max can do then there are options in how Isak can make this work. Not that he is going to make anything work because obviously he needs to drop Max Bech like a hot potato and get him transferred to Sigrid’s most capable hands. Or Miriam. Miriam is a good teacher. Patient. She would be good for Max.

He is doing it again. Trying to solve something that he needs to let go of. He can’t deal with this. Seriously Isak.

He bangs his head against the whiteboard in the room, having paced aimlessly backwards and forwards for the last half an hour. He needs to go home. He needs to get drunk. He needs to go to bed. He needs to stop thinking.

 

Fucking Even.

 

He had looked almost exactly the same. A bit older. A bit weathered and grey. But he was still Even. The same mop of hair, which the sad bastard still kept in the same hairstyle. He probably thought he could still get the chicks by pulling his hand through it and winking. Smiling that smile and wearing those damn sunglasses. Well whatever. Even Bech Næsheim had been the ultimate golden boy at Nissen. The Russ King. On the coolest bus. In the best Revue group. Fuck if he remembers rightly had been the Revue boss too. Finger in every pie. And he had dated Sonja, the girl of everyone’s dirty wet morning-wood sessions. The one with the big boobs and the easy laugh and the short skirts and the hot friends. Well apart from Isak. Because Isak had wanked off to the thoughts of seducing Even Bech Næsheim more mornings than he wants to remember. Even had been the first. The first of the Straight boys. The unattainable unbelieavable specimens of men that Isak had crushed on until it had almost driven him insane. Even. Oh fucking hell.

Well no doubt Even had some hot wife sitting at home, No doubt Max’s Mother had been some prize of a woman who would have completed the perfect life he would have ended up with. No wonder his son was a mess with Even for a father though.

Isak shouldn’t judge. Isak should go home. Instead he opens up the Teacher-to-Student app on his laptop and shoots off an email to Jonas asking to have a formal meeting to discuss a student. It’s routine, and marks it in his notes for any referral in the future. He tried. He really tried.

 

TO [Maximillian.Bech@nissenmail.no](mailto:Maximillian.Bech@nissenmail.no)

FROM [Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no](mailto:Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no)

RE: Informal meeting

Hi Max. Sorry about today.

Can we please reschedule as soon as possible? If your parents are unable to attend then I would be happy to meet with you with one of the other teachers in attendance for support? But to be honest we need to have this meeting as soon as possible to enable us to put a solid plan in place to get you back on track.

Best

Isak

 

The reply comes back a little too quickly. Almost like Max had expected it.

 

TO [Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no](mailto:Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no)

FROM [Maximillian.Bech@nissenmail.no](mailto:Maximillian.Bech@nissemail.no)

RE: Informal Meeting

 

Isak. What the hell was that about?

 

Max

 

 

TO [Maximillian.Bech@nissenmail.no](mailto:Maximillian.Bech@nissenmail.no)

FROM [Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no](mailto:Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no)

RE: Informal meeting

 

I think that is something you could discuss with your father. It would not be professional of me to disclose more. Could we meet tomorrow at 5? Let me know if your parents are available. If not is there a specific teacher you would like to have support you? I can ask Jonas Vasquez from the Drama department?

 

Isak

 

It is not professional. Isak regrets it the minute he presses send. He wasn’t going to do this, remember? He was going to hand Max over to someone else. Then why the hell is he sitting here sweating buckets and typing so fast that his head is spinning?

 

 

TO [Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no](mailto:Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no)

FROM [Maximillian.Bech@nissenmail.no](mailto:Maximillian.Bech@nissemail.no)

RE: Informal Meeting

Dad is totally freaked out and wont tell me why. I mean dude? Did he fuck something up for you? I’ll check if he can make it but he will probably have a heart attack if I even ask.

I’ll be fine on my own, don’t drag that Jonas into this.

Max

 

 

 

TO [Maximillian.Bech@nissenmail.no](mailto:Maximillian.Bech@nissenmail.no)

FROM [Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no](mailto:Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no)

RE: Informal meeting

 

You know the rules, I can’t request a meeting with you without a guardian or a fellow teacher present. You choose. Parent or Jonas Vasquez. Or another teacher of your choice. Let me know by tomorrow morning.

Isak

 

 

TO [Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no](mailto:Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no)

FROM [Maximillian.Bech@nissenmail.no](mailto:Maximillian.Bech@nissemail.no)

RE: Informal Meeting

 

Fine.

 

 

TO [Maximillian.Bech@nissenmail.no](mailto:Maximillian.Bech@nissenmail.no)

FROM [Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no](mailto:Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no)

RE: Informal meeting

 

Hi Max.

 

Does that mean Fine, I will come with a parent or Fine, I will attend the meeting tomorrow at 5 with Jonas Vasquez?

Best

Isak

 

 

 

TO [Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no](mailto:Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no)

FROM [Maximillian.Bech@nissenmail.no](mailto:Maximillian.Bech@nissemail.no)

RE: Informal Meeting

 

Fuck do I know! I don’t know shit, and I’m not doing this if you don’t tell me what is going on. You tell me why you and Dad have history and I will turn up at the meeting with him. You choose.

 

Max

 

 

Isak shuts the laptop with a bang. He can’t do this. He can’t . Not now. Not ever.

He slams the door to the classroom shut with a crash that echoes through the quiet hallways as he jogs down the stairs and breathes deeply as his lungs hit the outside air.

 

He can’t go through this again. He can’t deal with Even Bech Næsheim. Not now. Not ever. Never again.


	7. Sannheten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sant å si - og sannheten bør man alltid si!  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

 

7

For the first time in ages I felt sorry for my Dad last night. I mean he was clearly wrecked, snoring on the sofa with his feet on the table and an empty bottle of bourbon on the side. He never drinks. Never. Yet last night he drank himself into a stupor. Sobbing and slobbering and muttering to himself. I could hear him through the walls.

Usually I have my music on loud and my headphones on, but I was too anxious to lock myself away, with Dad being fucked up like this. He’s the stable one. I am the messed up one. Not the other way around. That is not how we work. That is not how this life is supposed to be.

I’m also a coward, just like my Dad. Well to be honest I didn’t want to wake him up this morning, he’s on nights next week again so he needs his rest. Needs to sleep in so he can cope with work. I know the drill, I have grown up with all this crap.

I still miss Anne Mette. She used to come and look after me when Dad worked. Officially she came to clean our house once a week, but in-officially she stayed the night when Dad worked so I wouldn’t be alone. I used to curl up with her on the sofa and fall asleep whilst she read me Harry Potter. We got to book eight before it all went to shit. I must have been maybe 11? Then Dad got an Au pair. A scatty Italian girl who drove us both mad, but she cooked all these great meals and we ate like kings to the point that Dad couldn’t button up his jeans. She was fab. Then we had a Lithuanian girl that was terrified of Dad. Followed by Mika from Finland who tried to teach me to play football and gave me a black eye on the trampoline. He tried, I’ll give that to him. After that I looked after myself. It was fine. It was all fine.

So yes, I am a coward. I left Dad a note on the table telling him to turn up at school for 5, and that we were doing this. He will get what I mean. He can sweat it out all day and man the fuck up and come and deal with me. And Isak.

Because Isak is a fucking coward too, and he hasn’t responded to my lame ultimatum, so no doubt we will turn up with fucking Vasquez there as well. I wonder if Dad fucked up his life too.

I still managed to turn up for Norwegian class on time and got away without opening my mouth. I also turned in my essay, which is 46 words short of the required wordcount but whatever. I finished it off with blah blah blah 46 times at the bottom and sent it in. Fuck it.

So now I am back in the corner of the cafeteria, just by the back door so I have an easy escape route should I need one. Should the tsunami rear it’s ugly head in the pit of my stomach for some unexplainable reason. I am calm today. Calm and collected and cool. Beanie over my head. Washed out hoodie on top of a slightly smelly t-shirt. My good jeans. The trainers where the sole is loose on the left so water seeps in when it rains. The cafeteria is also pretty much deserted, so the air is quiet, which helps. Calm. I am calm.

Breathe.

I have my laptop open and am actually contemplating looking at the English homework. Browsing casually through the sentences. Shakespearian quotes dancing around on the screen, which I randomly translate. I know some of this stuff, it’s amazing the strange things that actually stick in my brain sometimes. And anyway, English is fine. Not to complicated. Just let the words dance around. Stick them in the right order. Whisper them out loud and listen to the rhythm to make sure the grammar sticks. It’s fine. I can do this.

For once I am doing good. I am doing homework. Like a proper person. Like I can totally do this. See? Two pages of translations done in under 10 minutes. I can so get a 3 in English….

My breath hitches. Fuck. I shouldn’t have looked up.

Fuck fuckety fuck.

He’s sitting two tables away facing me. Eating a bolle like he is sucking the life out of it. Big chunky bites and then he chews to the point that his cheeks are bulging, and little crumbs are escaping out of his mouth. He’s not elegant. Not refined. He’s a fucking messy eater, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and scrolling on his phone taking a loud slurp out of the cup of coffee in front of him. Had it not been him it would have been slightly disgusting. Neanderthalian table manners as my Dad would have laughed. But because it’s ** _him,_** it’s kind of… I hate to say it. Cute. He’s cute. Clumsy and endearing. He’s a mess. He always has been. He’s like me. Doesn’t quite fit the mould. Too pretty to be masculine. Too rough around the edges to be feminine. He’s definitely all man, don’t get me wrong, he is just. Swoony Sigh. He’s beautiful. Sharp. Defined. Long straggly blonde hair that covers his face. Eyes as blue as the sky. And when he smiles, which he does all the time, he just lights up the world to the point of the air just goes all warm and bright around him.

Yup. Now he is blowing his nose in one of the thin crappy cafeteria napkins and even that is cute. He is blowing his nose and I am having dirty daydreams about him being ill and curled up in bed with me and I am blowing his nose and kissing his temples and... Yes. Sucking his cock until he screams. Yep. Good Job Max.

I allow myself a little look. Just a glance from under my fringe where I am keyboard smashing nonsense into my laptop pretending to be really into google.no. When in reality I am creepy staring at him across the room.

His name is Matteo. Which is like the most perfect name in the history of perfection. Seriously. People call him Matti though, which is total blasphemy when you have such a fantastic name. Matteo. Matteo and Maximillian. I mean. Come on, we would be Maxeo. Mattax. Yeah, I know. It’s not like it is ever going to happen but hey, I can dream, can’t I?

I stalk his social media like some creep. I haven’t dared to follow him on Insta even though I am dying to. He posts all kind of nerdy crap on there, drama things and him looking seriously cool in some theatre play that looks awesome. I wish I had the guts to find out if he is going to be in anything else because I would totally buy a ticket and go. In my dreams. I would never dare to in real life, I mean can you imagine? I would be the dude panic breathing in the back trying to hide behind the seat because the man of my dreams is on stage.

I sneak another peak. Fuck. He is looking at me. Smiling. He is fucking smiling at me. A big toothy grin that makes my breath hitch and my skin heat up like I’m on fire.

I think I try to smile back, whilst my heart is banging holes in my ribcage. Oh god. He’s still smiling. Chewing and smiling and jerking his head to the side to get his fringe out of his eyes whilst I am biting my lip and pretending to be super interested in the random shite on my screen. Oh, please leave. Or just sit there. Just sit there and don’t look at me. Please don’t look at me.

**Hey, I will see you at 5. Hope you are having a good day at school.**

Saved by my phone. Thanks Dad.

**How is your head?**

I add some random green vomiting emojis. He must be feeling shit.

**I will survive. I take it you have spoken to Isak?**

Ah. So, Dad is fishing for Info.

**No.**

I’ll just let him stew a bit then. I can almost picture him, pacing the kitchen silently screaming at me.

**He won’t spill how you know him. He said to ask you. I will find out anyway so just tell me.**

There is no reply. Just the damn speech bubble coming and going which means Dad is typing and deleting and fucking around.

**He was in my year at Nissen. We weren’t friends.**

OK Dad. Cryptic shit right there.

**AND?**

No reply. Instead I look up to find Matteo gone. Which makes me take a deep breath in relief and at the same time I want to ugly cry that he is not near me anymore.

‘’Hi!’’

OH FUCK. He has just plonked himself down opposite me. With another coffee in his hand. Fuck. Oh shit. God help me.

I think I make a sound that comes out like a gurgle.

‘’You haven’t been to drama for a bit’’ he says and takes a sip out of his cup. Looking at me through his fringe.

‘’No’’ I say. Smooth Max. Really cool.

‘’Can you please come back?’’ He is actually looking at me whilst I am the colour of beetroot and my chest is heaving. Seriously. He needs to leave before I pass out. With panic or embarrassment or both.

‘’No’’ I squeal out. Oh fuck.

‘’Look, your character was by far the most interesting one. Everyone is losing the plot trying to make some kind of lame fucking romance shite for the play, I think we need to add something cool. And your stuff was good. Quirky, but good.’’

‘’Quirky? I pant out. ’’I wrote a gay guy with a crush. ‘’ Oh fuck Max, shut your fucking gob you idiot.

‘’Yeah, you kind of outed yourself in Drama. It was brilliant. Jonas looked like he was going to pee his pants. You are like my hero.’’ Matteo takes another gulp of coffee, his fingers messing with his fringe and his eyes still fixed on me.

‘’So, will you please come back?’’ he asks.

I’m about to faint. Or die. Or both. I can’t do this.

‘’Why?’’ I squeak out.

‘’Because we need you. Because your stuff is good. And to be honest you’re good too. So, will you at least think about it?’’

‘’Did Jonas put you up to this?’’ I snap. I mean.

‘’No, we talked about it in class, a few of us were saying you should be there.’’ He shrugs his shoulders whilst I am soaking my t-shirt in sweat under my arms. Classy. Really classy.  

‘’I’ll think about it.’’ I croak out. Fuck I need him to leave. Please don’t leave.

‘’Tomorrow?’’ He says and arches an eyebrow. Oh God he is so cute. I am going to have a wankfest and a half tonight. Dreaming of his voice this close to me. His lips are a little bit wet. I bet they are warm from the coffee. Soft to kiss. His tongue against mine.

‘’Earth to Max?’’ He laughs and waves his hand in front of my face whilst I jerk back to life with what is no doubt a terrified look on my face betraying all the smutty shite going on in my head.

‘’OK’’ I whisper. Because what the hell else can I say? It’s not like I can be cool and suave with bloody Matteo Druckheim sitting opposite me. Most beautiful boy in the world.

‘’Sweet’’ Matteo says. ‘’See you tomorrow then?’’

He get’s off the chair to leave. Looking at me like I am expected to make my mouth work long enough to form words when all I can do is stare at him. Nod lamely and try to make my lips smile whilst he is grinning like a bloody sunbeam.

Instead my phone goes off again and he walks backwards waving his coffee cup in the air, still looking at me as he swerves to avoid a bunch of girls trying to grab the table he is almost tripping over. He’s a mess. He’s my mess. I wish he was mine. Fuck I love him. If I could I would just hug him to death.

**He hates me and I don’t blame him.**

Over dramatic much Dad?

**Not good enough Dad. Why does he hate you?**

I can’t even think straight. Matteo just spoke to me. Matteo just spoke to me. Matteo just spoke to me. I can die happy. I am about to die anyway if I can’t get my heartrate under control and I need to go to the bathroom and get rid of this t-shirt or I will smell like a bloody turd by this afternoon. I try to remember what I said. Replay the conversation in my head whilst I cringe and wish that the world would swallow me up.

TO: [Maximillian.Bech@nissenmail.no](mailto:Maximillian.Bech@nissenmail.no)

FROM: [Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no](mailto:Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no)

RE: Informal Meeting

Max. This is not about me or your father. This meeting is about you passing this year so you can go on to year 3 and graduate. I have some ideas how we can ensure you fulfil the requirements to at least get you a 3 in Biology and Maths. I also have an idea how you can gain extra credit to add hours to your Drama degree. This is about you, and how we get you back on track in a way that is manageable for you.

I am assuming your parents won’t attend so I have taken the liberty of getting Jonas Vasquez to support us.

Isak

 

TO: [Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no](mailto:Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no)

FROM: [Maximillian.Bech@nissenmail.no](mailto:Maximillian.Bech@nissenmail.no)

RE: Informal Meeting

Whatever

 

TO: [Maximillian.Bech@nissenmail.no](mailto:Maximillian.Bech@nissenmail.no)

FROM: [Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no](mailto:Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no)

RE: Informal Meeting

Max. Please.

Isak.

 

TO: [Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no](mailto:Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no)

FROM: [Maximillian.Bech@nissenmail.no](mailto:Maximillian.Bech@nissenmail.no)

RE: Informal Meeting

Then tell me what is going on with you and Dad, and I will happily go along with your bloody plans.

Max

 

He doesn’t reply and I sit there tapping at the screen refreshing my inbox like a loser.


	8. Hukommelse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Man må ikke tro sin egen hukommelse!
> 
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

Even can do this. Of course, he can do this. He deals with every kind of trauma at work every day. He can talk down the drunkest most violent idiot within a few minutes. He can handle junkies high as kites. Violent offenders and humans full of rage. He is equally confident with the other side of the spectrum. People so full of fear that they can barely function. Families being torn apart in grief and despair. Tiny children lost to the world making Even sob in the bathroom where he hides out to regain himself.

He is not hard. Not like Yousef who shrugs things off and just says ‘’Inshallah’’. Not like everyone else who seem to cope better with the highs and lows throughout the day. At least at work he doesn’t have to think so much, and to be honest he thrives on the constant rush. The way his brain plans ahead sorting his patients into neat little rows, stacked and packed in order for his attention, whilst the new cases are coming in by the minute and the pager in his pocket keeps squealing.

His days off are supposed to be restful but all he can see is the jobs that he should be doing. He should be mowing the lawn, or at least googling for a gardening service to keep on top of what used to be a garden and now is a field of long swaying grass. He should think of putting something on the walls. Cleaning up the kitchen and ordering a couple of deckchairs so himself and Max could sit in comfort outside and smoke, not have to sit on an upturned cool box that he can’t even remember where it came from. Maybe it came with the house. Maybe it had always been there.

He should stop smoking. He should seriously get Max to stop smoking.

He should do some research on Max’s anxiety meds. They had both agreed to stop them, since the dosage of antipsychotics he had been on seemed to work, and he was surprisingly stable in his moods. The Ativan had messed with him though and had plunged him into a few weeks of catastrophic behaviour followed by a depressive stint that had Even sleeping outside his door in fear. Even Max had agreed that he could cope with the anxiety, in favour of feeling more stable. Even is sure there is a solution. A more compatible line of medication that could help. But at the same time, it terrifies him to read up on what can happen. He doesn’t want to understand. He doesn’t want to ruin the love he has for his son by creating an image of the illness he will have to carry for the rest of his life. Max is Max. And Even will look after him as long as he is physically able. Love him and hold him and fucking sleep on the floor to keep him safe.

Which means he will happily subject himself to going in for that meeting today. He will be supportive. He will lay himself down on the line. Beg for Isak to help him.

Beg and apologize and no doubt make a complete spectacle out of himself.

Not that he has a plan. Not that anything that he had so carefully planned in his head makes any sense to say. He had seen Isak. Isak had seen him. Those words had been nothing. Lame idiotic pathetic bullshit compared to what he really needed to say.

He still smokes half a pack of Marlboro on the way to the metro. Stomps the butt ends out with an angry heel. Downs a bottle of water trying to moisten the back of his throat that still feels like sandpaper whilst his stomach is trying to empty itself out in some kind of fucked up fear.

Because to be honest Even is terrified. It doesn’t get better.

 

He is outside the C entrance at 4.55, his hands shaking and his mouth full of the taste of bile. Hiding under a snapback like some fucking teenager. Just in case. He can’t risk running into Isak out here because they would probably both lose their shit.

‘’Have you got a smoke?’’ Max asks as he kind of effortlessly falls out the door. Tripping down the step like he is dancing.

‘’Hello to you too.’’ Even grunts and passes the packet. ‘’I’ve decided we both should stop smoking.’’

‘’Yeah, that would go down well. ‘’ Max actually smiles. For about a second.

‘’It’s not good for us’’ Even tries. Whilst sucking on the cigarette in his mouth like he is having his last meal.

‘’Neither is you having a nervous breakdown or me starting to eat my own weight in chocolate to deal with the cravings.’’ Max flutters out whilst taking a deep drag. Satisfyingly smug.

‘’Are we ready for this?’’ Even tries to look calm and collected. Defiant. Brave. He is neither.

‘’Can you tell me the truth?’’ Max says, looking up at him for once. His own eyes staring at him through the floppy mess of black fringe.

‘’Can you do me a favour?’’ he is begging here. Truly.

Max just takes another drag, shrugging his shoulders in that thin jacket he wears. He should be wearing a coat. And a scarf. A knitted jumper to keep that skinny body of his warm.

‘’When we go up there, can you let me have a few minutes with Isak alone? Just so we can kind of talk it out and clear the air. Otherwise it will just be a bit… I don’t know. Awkward?’’ Even can barely speak. Awkward is an understatement. Awkward is not even close to the truth.

‘’Whatever Dad. ‘’

‘’Thank you’’ Even whispers. Stomping on the ground not even close to the cigarette end that burns brightly on the step in the fading light.

 

He is about to pass out. Faint. Well. Die. Almost.

He just wants this over with. Honestly. So, he can go home and dig through the kitchen cabinets for another bottle of something alcoholic enough to drown himself in.

Even is a bad person. Even hasn’t changed. Even who has spent the last 18 years trying to reinvent himself into a decent human being with values and kindness and empathy and love in his heart. Yet here he is back to the scene of the crime and all his body can do is muster up anger.

Shaking and pulsing through his veins like he is 17 all over again, full of hormones and rage and violence and desire.

 

He still walks through the door into the classroom, leaving Max leaning against the wall in the corridor with a smirk on his face. Little fucker. He will no doubt have his ear to the door trying to listen in. Not that Even cares. He will have to sit down and spill the truth to Max at some point anyway. Get all this lying off his chest.

‘’Fucking Hell Næsheim’’.

Oh hell.

‘’Vasquez’’ Even says coldly. Whilst Isak just sits there on a chair. Arms crossed over his chest. Eyes firmly on Even.

‘’Where is Max?’’ Isak says. Whilst Jonas takes a few steps forward, positioning himself between the two of them. Like he always did.

‘’Outside. I was going to ask if I could speak to you in private before he comes in.’’ Even is trying here. Please. Just let me talk to you.

‘’I’m not leaving.’’ Jonas says. Taking another step forward.

‘’Jonas, it’s fine. ‘’ Isak kind of sighs. Getting up off the chair and instead leaning against the desk at the front so he is at eyelevel with Even who takes a few tentative steps towards the two of them, gesturing to the chair that is pulled out beside him.

‘’You seriously want him here?’’ Jonas almost shouts out, in despair.

‘’I’ll give you 3 minutes Even. This isn’t about anything else than your kid.’’ Isak’s voice is steady but Even can tell. His hands are shaking just as badly as his own and he is doing that swallowing thing again. Isak is just as terrified as Even. And Even wants to cry. He didn’t mean for this to happen. He fucked up so badly. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t.

Jonas just shrugs his shoulders and leaves the room banging the classroom door shut behind him to the point that the windows shake leaving the two of them in uncomfortable silence.

‘’I’m sorry.’’ Even starts. He doesn’t know how to continue.

‘’Not good enough.’’ Isak replies.

Whilst Even stares at his hands. This is no good. This is nowhere near good enough, he knows that.

‘’Even, I have moved on, I haven’t spent the last decades reliving the shit years I spent at school here. It happened, and it was fucking school. It’s not important now.’’ Isak’s hands are all over the place. Waving around.

‘’I made your life hell’’ Even whispers. ‘’I’ve had to live with that for the last decades. It’s not something I can just dismiss. I need to apologize.’’

‘’Well you have apologized. Now get the hell out of my classroom.’’ Yeah now Isak is shouting. Great.

‘’Can I try to explain?’’ Even is doing his work voice. Softly softly. Gesturing and trying to get Isak to sit down again, not pace the room like his arse is on fire.

‘’There is nothing to explain. You are an arsehole. I teach your kid. Let’s just get him to graduate and then I hope I will never see you again.’’

‘’There is. There are things I need to say to make you understand. It was never your fault. It was nothing you did. It was me being an inexcusable waste of a human being.’’

‘’Yes, I agree with that’’ Isak huffs out.

‘’I’m so sorry. ‘’ Even is close to tears. Something big and black and horrible expanding in his chest and if he doesn’t rein himself in he is going to burst into tears. Honestly.

‘’3 minutes.’’ Jonas slams the door shut behind him and Max is trailing behind him looking a bit confused. Half amused. Weirded out.

‘’Let’s sit down and hash this out.’’ Isak says with a deep breath.

 

It takes less than 10 minutes. Work plans and assignment dates and 30 minutes before class with Isak on a Tuesday and Thursday, with clearly planned small chunks of learning that Isak will orally assess in the presence of another teacher to pass off as exam questions. And Max nods in agreement. He can do that. No pressure of writing and sitting exams and doing group presentations which clearly scares the hell out of him. It will be tight time wise Isak explains, but as long as Max sticks to the lesson plan and completes all the learning tasks, he can get away with a decent pass mark and move on to year 3 like planned.

‘’With Drama though.’’ Jonas hasn’t even looked Even’s way. Just stares at Max and leans forward to lean on the table. ‘’You need to come back to class. However you can manage it, we need you in that group.’’

‘’I will try’’ Max says, hiding behind his hair. Shuffling on his seat and looking just as uninterested as blasé as he wants to look. When in reality it’s quite clear he probably is. A little bit.

‘’You will try.’’ Jonas almost shouts. ‘’You are a fucking natural, and there are so many brilliant things in year 3, I already have ideas for our exam project and the play for the Nissen festival, and you would be so bloody brilliant at all of it. ‘’

Max shrugs and Even’s eyes are now playing ping pong across the room. Looking at Isak who won’t look up from the paperwork in front of him. Jonas who is waving his arms around speaking loudly about some drama project, Max chewing on his fingernail and Even looking like he has died. What a fucking bunch of losers.

‘’The extra cred you can earn to make up for missing drama hours, are with Isak again.’’ Jonas says and gives Max a stern look. ‘’I hope you are paying attention because this is a onetime offer.’’

‘’Yeah right’’ Max mutters. ‘’Whatever. I’ll do it.’’

‘’You haven’t even heard what I am asking.’’ Isak is pissed off. No wonder.

‘’What are you asking?’’ Max snarls, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

‘’I run one of the Nissen after school social clubs, and to be honest it’s a fucking mess.’’ Isak sighs.

‘’You run the Queer Nissen group’’ Max huffs and his chair scrapes against the floor as he moves it further away from the table. ‘’I’m not fucking joining that.’’

‘’You don’t have to join, it’s not just for students who are on the spectrum or are questioning their sexuality. We have several students who have joined for other reasons.’’ Isak is speaking calmly and quietly.

‘’Yeah right’’ Max is an idiot. How the hell has Even not brought him up better? Taught him manners and how to fucking sit at a table? Not half-lie back in the fucking seat like some junkie looser.

‘’Max, I have one openly queer kid, two girls who won't open their mouths, and 14 idiots who watched some TV series and are now obsessed with something called ‘’EVOK’’. I haven’t got a fucking clue what to do with them all. ‘’

Even has to kind of smile. He’s still funny Isak. Still full of that snarky charm and the way he throws his head back and fuck he’s still him. He hasn’t changed at all.

‘’It’s EVAK.’’ Max kind of half smiles. ‘’Where the hell have you been for the last year? Everyone knows fucking EVAK.’’

‘’What is EVAK?’’ Even questions. I mean he is lost now.

‘’I taught the guy who plays one of those dudes. He went to Nissen a few years back. Very cool kid.’’ Jonas is actually smiling. For about a second before he fixes his gaze on Even again and scouls. ‘’

‘’All I am asking of you is that you attend the Queer Nissen meeting next week and help me devise a roleplay thing to get people to talk about things that are important. You can be there as a sort of support teacher if you prefer, because you are good at this Drama thing and I am bloody shite at it. I need scenarios and ideas of how we can open discussions and make people think before they open their gobs. ‘’

Max just shrugs his shoulders.

‘’Because’’ Isak continues ‘’If I have to sit through another meeting of all of them watching YouTube clips and squealing every time those damn boys kiss then I think I will have a serious breakdown. ‘’

‘’I thought you liked boys kissing’’ Max sing songs. And Even rolls his eyes. Honestly. The kid needs a gag.

‘’Max’’’ He booms. Like a freaking idiot.

‘’What? Isak is out. He’s not afraid. ‘’ Max looks defiant again. Cocky little shit.

‘’My sexuality is not the topic here’’ Isak snarls. ‘’You passing VGS is. So. Will you agree to do the Queer Nissen workshop with me for extra Drama credit? It will include you providing a breakdown of roleplay ideas and questions to raise for Jonas to assess for an assignment grade.’’

Jonas nods. Max shrugs his shoulders. Isak rolls his eyes. Discreetly, but still. And Even stares at Isak like he is a starving man. Like he is still 17 again. Like he is about to die.

‘’Fine’’ Max says, and Jonas stands up.

‘’Næsheim.’’ He hisses. It’s a clear invitation to leave.

‘’Done’’ Isak huffs out, slamming the paperwork in front of him into a folder. Not even looking up.

‘’Thank you’’ Even says. There is nothing else he can say.

He’s a coward. An idiot. An arsehole of epic proportions.

His coat is dragging along the steps behind him as he rushes down. He needs a cigarette. He needs a drink. He needs a life. He needs. Oh fuck. It’s still there. Of course it’s still there. Consuming his body like black ink being pumped through his veins.

‘’Dad, what the fuck did the two of you do to eachother?’’ Max breath is hot on his neck. He is right behind him. Right there. Rushing down the steps to keep up, his rucksack slung on his back.

‘’I bullied the shit out of him, OK? I was the fucking arsehole of the century and I spent most of my time making his life hell. Happy now?’’ He snarls over his shoulder.

The door to the building almost falls off it’s hinges with the kick from Even’s foot. He doesn’t look back. He walks out of the school yard without even noticing that Max isn’t behind him anymore.


	9. Hjem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tross alt det fine i fremmed duft,  
> helt ren alene er hjemmets luft.  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the awesome people who have commented and kudosed and messaged me! I love you all to bits!   
> I am also super overinvested in this story and managed to squeeze out three chapters in a day. There will be a tiny hiatus now as I have to work and adult this week BUT I will be back with a vengeance in a few days. Sit tight.

 

I have no idea where Dad has gone. Zero. He’s a fucking idiot.

 

Instead I head home hoping to find him gulping down whiskey on the sofa. But no. He is not there.

 

**I’m home but you are not. Thank you for the fucking support.**

 

Nice Max. Mature. Passive aggressive shite as usual.

 

**I’ll be home in a bit, sorry. Just needed a walk to clear my head.**

 

OK Dad.

 

**You are not drunk on a park bench somewhere then?**

 

Yeah. I’m being clingy and needy like a kid again.

 

**No. Promise. I’m just a bit emotional.**

 

Me too Dad. Me too.

 

**How the hell could you bully someone? What the hell had Isak done to deserve that? You have always gone on about your treat people with kindness shite, making sure I was nice to everyone and not saying mean things. And it turns out you are a fucking hypocrite bully who made some kids life hell? What the fuck Dad?**

 

He doesn’t reply. Speech bubbles going crazy on the screen as he is having his usual midlife texting crisis.

 

**I have spent my entire adult life trying to be a good person and not be the idiot arsehole I was as a teenager. I am not proud of what I did. I got to apologize to Isak today and that was a big thing emotionally for me.**

 

**He still hates you Dad. That must have been a fucking lame apology.**

 

My Dad. The wanker.

 

**I really want to sit down and speak to him. Explain myself. No excuses. I just want to make sure he knows that I realize that my behaviour was abhorrent and vile, and it wasn’t his fault.**

 

**No, it was your fault Dad.**

 

**Yes, it was all on me. Me and my insecurities and my big mouth and wanting to be something I wasn’t.**

 

And what was that Dad? I can suddenly think of a million snarky comebacks. But somehow it doesn’t feel right. Somehow, I have a feeling this runs deeper.

I leave him alone and curl up in bed with my laptop, looking at the study plan Isak has emailed me. It is doable. I am to read the links he has provided to some biology site, and then we are to discuss them tomorrow with some teacher called Miriam. I haven’t got a clue who Miriam is but whatever.

I actually manage to read two of the links before the sound of Dad’s homecoming echoes through the house. Big loud footfall in the hallway. Swish of his coat being thrown over the banister. Huffing and puffing as he goes in the kitchen and realizes that we have no food in the fridge. Zero. We did have a banana which I ate. Serves him right for not coming home first.

He comes around the corner with a glass of water in his hand. Still weirded out, like he doesn’t know where to look. What to say. If he should even step over the thresh hold.

 

‘’Did you eat?’’ He asks. Taking a gulp of water.

‘’Banana. We have no food.’’ I huff back. Pretending to tap on the keyboard.

‘’I can go down to the Kiwi. Get some supplies. What do you want?’’ He looks really confused. Fiddling with some chipped paint on the doorframe to my room.

‘’Dad, why did you do whatever you did to Isak? What had he done?’’ I slam my laptop shut. I’m curious. Also, whatever he did will give me lots of ammo to use if I need it. Put some pressure on Isak. Get back at my Dad when I need it. Secrets are good. I’m good at keeping them. I’m also good at using them.

‘’You will just hate me if I tell you. Some secrets are better kept inside.’’ He says, looking so fucking sad it almost breaks my heart.

‘’You never told me much about when you went to Nissen. Did you do the whole Russ thing?’’

‘’Yeah. I did everything. Bus. Parties. Revue. All that shit. ‘’

‘’Cool.’’

 

It is actually. Like my Dad was on a bus. And was in the Revue. I kind of nod appreciatively.

 

‘’I hated it. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.’’ He is still looking sad.

‘’Are there photos? Did you keep any footage? I mean it must have been 20 years ago but surely you had cameras?’’

‘’I got rid of them all. I wanted to just kill off who I was. I wasn’t a nice person Max, I hurt people and I was a fucking idiot.’’

‘’Is that the reason you got rid of the Næsheim Dad? Because that was what they called you? I heard Jonas call you that. Weird. ‘’

‘’Yeah, partly. I was so scared your Mum would change her mind about giving you up, so I got it removed when you were born thinking that it would be harder to find us with a more common name. I used to have nightmares of her turning up and snatching you away from me. ‘’

 

‘’She gave up her parental rights. Why would she come for me?’’

 

I don’t get it. Well I do. I am the master of overthinking shit and making up drama in my head. Then panicking and freaking out over it.

 

‘’She could have changed her mind. Regretted giving you up. I don’t know.’’ Dad is messing around with his hair again. Picking at that chipped paint. Tapping his toes against the carpet.

‘’So Why Isak?’’

 

I need to know why. I mean. It’s intriguing. It’s kind of made for Drama. I could probably score extra points with Jonas just writing all this shit down on paper.

 

‘’He was this really cool guy. I mean he came out during our second year. Just like that, everyone knew, and he fucking owned it. This handsome cool dude who was just who he was. No drama about it. He was a cocky little shit and the girls adored him, there was always this cluster of girls hanging around him. And he had these really solid mates who defended him and loved him to bits. I mean it was almost sickening. He had it all. People thought he was the fucking business. And God Max, he was so fucking cute. ‘’

 

Dad stops himself and looks almost panic stricken. Like he said something totally wrong. Which it takes me a minute or two to compute.

 

‘’Cute?’’ I say. Fucking hell Dad.

 

‘’Forget it. I am going to Kiwi. I’ll get meatballs. Or Pizza. Or whatever.’’

 

Yeah and a shit-ton of alcohol. Because Dad is freaking out and I almost crash my laptop onto the floor following him out in the hallway.

 

‘’Dad. You were in love with him, weren’t you. That’s why you did it. You loved him. Fucking hell Dad. After all this and you freaking loved him. ‘’

 

Dad is trying to put his shoes on. The wrong shoe on the wrong foot.

 

‘’STOP’’ I almost cry. Because I need to know. This is too big. This is too much.

 

He doesn’t, just jerks around with his shoes looking at the floor and almost falls over. I catch him. I fucking catch him and he wails into my shoulder. Sobs like a freak, big ugly cries as I clumsily pat him on the back.

 

I don’t know what to do. I don’t have anything to say. It’s like I have a million questions and zero ways of asking them. Because Dad. Fucking freaking hell.

It’s not like we have any friends I could call. Grampa and Granny passed away when I was a kid. We have nobody. I have nobody. It’s me and Dad against the world.

 

He calms down after a while as we both sit in a messy pile on the carpet. He’s got one shoe on. My hoodie is covered in snot and tears. My hand drawing random patterns on his leg.

‘’So, all this time, when I was threatening to move out if you ever tried to move a girlfriend in here?’’ I try. I mean now it seems funny. ‘’I could have had two Dads? Fucking awesome!’’

 

‘’I would never have moved anyone in here.’’ Dad slobbers. ‘’Can’t imagine anyone wanting to be with me. Just look at me.’’

 

Yeah. No shit Dad. He can’t even string a coherent sentence together. Let alone run a house and raise a kid. 

 

‘’So, when did you know you were gay?’’ I need to roll with this. Get him to talk whilst I can. Before he clams up and refuses to speak to me again.

‘’Not gay. I was never like you. I mean you told me when you were a little kid that you were going to marry a boy. There was never any doubt in your head. Then you had that crush on that actor that went completely mental.’’

‘’Yeah.’’

 

I still love Theo James. I want to have his babies. I fucking cried over him not being the tiniest bit gay.

 

‘’So, are you Bi?’’ I am digging here. Shovelling shit faster than my brain can keep up.

‘’For a long time, I thought I was asexual. I never really crushed on anyone. I had a girlfriend for a while, but it was never right. It was nowhere near right. Because I think I fell in love with Isak the first time I saw him at school. He was just there, smiling and messing around with his gang, and he was just. Fuck. I don’t even know. I have no idea how to do this gay thing and I was so fucking scared and frustrated and angry and everything just went from bad to worse. I couldn’t talk to him. Couldn’t say a fucking thing so I slammed him into a wall and hurled abuse at him. I couldn’t stop after that. It became a fucking habit. A fucking pisstake of someone I fucking loved. It scared the shit out of me for years because if I treated someone I loved like that then what the hell would I be like as someone’s partner? I was a fucking monster.’’

 

Dad is sobbing again, and to be honest I think this is the most he has actually said to me for weeks.

 

‘’So, do you think you are Pansexual?’’ because I kind of know this shit. I am all over this shit.

‘’Pan what?’’ Dad looks up. Like he has never googled in his entire life.

‘’Yeah when you just fall in love with someone, without the prejudice of gender.’’

‘’There is an actual name for it?’’

 

Fuck you Dad. You are supposed to be the Doctor of Medicine here.

 

‘’Yes Dad. There is a wide spectrum of sexualities. It’s just not straights and cocksuckers you know.’’

‘’Cocksuckers’’ He mutters.

‘’Yeah, ‘cause that is what us gay boys do. Suck cock.’’

 

Shock and awe. Works every time. Except Dad is actually laughing.

 

‘’So, you suck cock. You have done that?’’

 

Yup this is where I should backpedal faster than light.

 

‘’No. Haven’t found a cock I want to suck yet.’’ I try to sound cocky. Instead my voice is wobbling.

 

‘’Shall we agree that cocksucking is something we can talk about another time. I don’t think I can cope with dealing with that right now.’’ Dad tries to get up. Whilst I pull him back down.

 

‘’This is the most we have talked in a while.’’

 

I don’t know why I say it. I don’t know why I care. But I do. I know how fucking scary this is.

 

‘’Please don’t stop talking to me Max. I mean it. I have nobody else to talk to. Nobody else knows. Please just let me have this with you.’’

 

He pulls me in and strokes my hair as my nose is pressed against his shirt. He smells the same as he always does. Of Laundry and dust and nicotine. Of us. The way we smell.

 

‘’We gotta get you set up with Isak then.’’ I splutter out. Laughing. Because Yeah right. Like that would work. Isak eats guys like my Dad for breakfast.

 

Dad doesn’t reply. Just gets up and puts his shoes on the right feet. Grabs his coat and hands me my hoodie.

 

I suppose we are going out. I suppose he’s OK. I suppose we are too. Better than we have been for a while.


	10. Ungdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Man taler om ungdommen som den lykkeligste tid. Jeg vil pinedød ikke ha den opp igjen - all denne sanselige galskap, dumhet, forfengelighet, alt det sludder -.  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

There is a foot-print on his classroom door. Yeah. Mature. Very cool Isak. It’s like he is back being 18 again. Stupid and reckless and over the top dramatic and ideas that he should have just shelved and forgotten about. Because he has a habit of doing this. It’s not the first time he has done this. Thought about Even Bech Næsheim in this way. And it is definitely not a good way.

Because Isak has a type. He always has had. He has never gone for the twinks with the smooth voices, or the bears who just want to take him home and hug him to death. He has no interest in men who are camp and flamboyant or feminine. He likes his men… Like Even.

Handsome and tall and confused. Yes, because it was definitely still there. The looks. The damp patches of panic ridden sweat around his collar. The flickering of his eyes when Isak had tried to look him in the eye. Even was still there. He hadn’t changed a bit.

It would never end well. Never in a million years.

 

Yet here his kid is, bright and early and fucking enthusiastic about the functionality of organisms and their impact on the immune system. Thank the fuck and god and all that that Miriam is here, with her cup of tea on the side and spreadsheets on the table talking to the kid with big gestures and that smile of hers. Whilst Isak is chewing on a fingernail and letting his mind wander.

Isak’s gaydar is fool proof. It always has been. Even the straight guys will give off little vibes, little looks that linger too long. Touches that come across as friendly gestures but are nothing but. Words that should be intercepted as stupid jokes. They never are. There is usually a reason.

He had kind of known where Max lies long before Jonas had asked for advice how to handle the shitstorm of Jonas outing the kid. He hadn’t meant too. The kid had just written this fantastic characterization in class, and Jonas had gotten carried away with the brilliance of it until he had realized, far too late, that what he was enthusiastically reading out in class was completely true. That this was the kids own story. That the kid was cringing in the corner, gasping for breath and scrambling to leave. And it was Jonas fault. Isak was in full agreement on that. Totally.

Which is also why Isak is desperate to get Max into the Queer Nissen group. Because these kids in there need someone like Max. Someone who is clear cut and owns who he is. Because however grumpy and detached the kid might seem, he is fucking brilliant at being himself. He can be loud and enthusiastic one minute and completely lost the second, but he has never once apologized for the way he functions, and that in Isak’s book, is worth a fucking award. The kid has taken bravery to the next level, and to be honest if Max had been in Isak’s year at school, Isak would no doubt have followed him around like a puppy and worshipped the ground he had walked on.

He hasn’t heard a word of what the kid has just said but Miriam is nodding appreciatively and loading up a page on the laptop in front of her pointing at some diagram and Max looks surprisingly alert. Like he is actually taking this in. Smiling smugly as he apparently answers Miriam’s question correctly.

He’s got his father’s smile. His bloody Dad. Isak can’t believe Even has a kid. A son. He has somehow managed to raise a son. A pretty awesome kid, despite the shite and health problems life has thrown at him. And of course, there is the fact that he is his father’s son. Poor thing. Well at the same time Isak is kind of arguing with himself in his head, because if Even has managed to bring up this kid to the pretty awesome little fucker he is, then Even has done something right.

Not that Isak will forgive and forget. Nope. Not happening. Like ever. Even Bech Næsheim deserves none of Isak’s kindness. None of his forgiveness. Despite the fact that Isak isn’t completely innocent in all this. He keeps trying to push that fact to the back of his head.

It had been one of those bloody parties. Year 3. Early autumn when the weather was still good enough that people were outside on the veranda and the music was blasting out in the darkness, where it was only a matter of time before the police would come and shut them down. It was inevitable, and things had been getting out of hand. People fighting in the street and shouting about it, and someone was spraying a garden hose around. Isak can remember it like it was yesterday. Because he had stood on his own outside trying to get hold of Mahdi about some weed, and Mahdi was nowhere to be found and Jonas was getting antsy and there was this girl hanging around and Even was right there. Just standing there by the garden fence with his foot up behind him and a cigarette between his teeth and he had just glared at Isak. Stared at him. Creepy staring until Isak kind of lost the plot and shouted into his mobile for Mahdi to ring him back and fucking show up with the gear. Stupid shit. Isak had been drunk. Isak had been horny. Isak had been fucking frustrated.

So Even had walked past and thrown some off-hand comment. The usual imbecilic shit he would spout. Fucking faggot or something. And Isak had lost his shit.

He had grabbed Even and pushed him up against the wooden fence, using all his strength to keep the boy firmly in place, pushing his face into the course planks whilst he hissed in his ear. He hadn’t been kind. Spitting out words in anger about how Even was begging for it. How Isak would use his fucking faggot mouth and kiss the filthy mouth of his like he had never been kissed before. How Isak would show him how to fucking use a cock. How Isak would make him beg. Make him shout and embarrass himself with how much he wanted it. Shove his cock down his throat until he gagged on it.

It had been completely idiotic drunk drivel. All of it. Stupid angry words that were just juvenile threats and just the thought of Isak having said things like that, even to Even, makes him blush in embarrassment.

He had run out of steam after a few sentences. Slammed Even’s body against the fence a few times to prove his point.

‘’You want it.’’ He had hissed. Then he had shoved his hand between Even’s legs. Just to prove a point. Just to scare him. Just to make him feel as small and ridiculous as Even made him feel.

Even had been hard. Even had been fucking hard as a rock and Isak had jolted back in fear.

The next time he laid eyes on Even Bech Næsheim, Even had pushed him down the A building staircase head first. He had gotten away with a bruised hip and a split lip, but it could have been so much worse. It hadn’t been the end of it. Because Isak was a complete twat with a couple of beers in his belly. And Even just wouldn’t stay away.

 

‘’We are quite happy with that aren’t we Isak?’’ Miriam says cheerily, whilst Max is looking up at him with what could almost be described as a smile.

‘’Sorry, Yes. Yes. Of course.’’ Isak stutters out. He hasn’t got a clue what is going on.

‘’So, as I said Max, we will email you a couple of more links on immunology and virus and if you could read them we can talk it through on Tuesday. Would that work for you?’’ Miriam takes a sip of her tea and turns to Isak. Like he is expected to talk. Like he is supposed to have a clue.

‘’Yeah. Good Job Max. Is this the kind of learning you feel you can cope with right now? Is it too much or the right amount of reading?’’ He tries to look involved. Kind of. All whilst his head is spinning.

Max just shrugs his shoulders but there is something there. A little glimmer. Almost pride. The kid is on a roll.

‘’Can I ask you something?’’ The kid looks like he actually wants to. Like he is dying to know whatever it is.

‘’Of course.’’ Isak is a teacher. Of course, the students should ask questions. Especially since Miriam is tapping away on her laptop and lessons are due to start in around 4 minutes. There is always time.

‘’I know my Dad was an arse to you when you were here. When you went to Nissen.’’ Max is kind of composing himself. Swallowing too hard. Like he is trying to find the words.

‘’Max, that is something I am not willing to discuss with you. ‘’ Absolutely not. Never.

‘’But did you know why? Did you know my Dad? Why he did it? ‘’ The kid looks genuine. Like he kind of needs to figure this out. All whilst all Isak wants is to run to the bathroom and throw up.

Just like that party at Eva’s. The fucking party. When it rained, and they were all packed inside and Isak had drunk far too much and Even’s gang were all there and there had been some fucking juvenile taunting and Jonas had lost his shit and Isak had locked himself in the toilet and thrown up only to find Even sitting on the edge of the bath.

Even who had looked like he had been crying. Whilst Isak was hurling his guts up down the toilet.

‘’Were a fucking mess’’ Even had said quietly. ‘’Were both a fucking mess.’’

Isak had stood up. Washed his mouth out in the sink and dried his face on the towel, before carefully hanging it back on the peg. He had stood there, tall and defiant looking down at Even.

‘’You are fucking spineless.’’ Isak had hissed. He remembers the words like they were yesterday. The taste of bile on his tongue as he had said them.

 

And Even had stood up. Slowly rising up until they were eye to eye. Nose to nose.

 

‘’Go on. You know you want to. You are so fucking pathetic. You are all mouth when you are out there with your mates, but when it boils down to it you can’t even say a word. ‘’

 

Isak had been just as spineless. Hurling stupid words at Even when he should have just walked out. He should just have let it go. He should have left Even to his pathetic self and just left.

 

Instead he had just stood there as Even had pressed his forehead against his.

 

‘’You have no idea what you are talking about.’’ Even had spat out.

 

Isak doesn’t like to think back to that moment. He hasn’t jerked off to the idea. Never. It’s not who he is. He never was. It wasn’t anything like that. Honestly.

 

Isak is a fucking liar. He can't even be honest with himself. 

 


	11. Nestekjærlighet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elsk din neste, du kristensjel,  
> tred ham ikke med jernskodd hæl,  
> ligger han enn i støvet!  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments kudos and love! Thank you for bearing with me! I am still adulting but should be able to squeeze out a few more chapters this week! Fingers xxed!

I knew it would happen. I mean it was almost inevitable that going back to Drama class would trigger all kinds of shit in my head and it was never going to be easy, however many pep-talks I kept giving myself.

 

I am me. I need to fucking own it.

 

Which is easier said than done when you are a mess of nerves trying to get one foot to step in front of the other when all you want to do is turn around and run the other way as fast as you possibly can.

 

I am not going to run. I am going to go to drama. Because.

 

OK, I am only going back to Drama because Matteo asked me. Because he will be there. Which is freaking me out and there by I am back to square one. Going back to drama. Where all went to fucking shit because I was high on endorphins, adrenaline and mania and wrote some overconfident shit that I shouldn’t have. I told everyone. I told them I was messed up. I told them I was desperately in love. I told them I loved the boy with the smile. It wouldn’t take much to put two and two together and make fucking seventy-two for all I care. They all know. They have told their friends. So, everyone knows.

I mean Isak knows, just fucking look at the looks he gave me. Like we are some kind of friends with a secret gay handshake. Fuck that. I have zero interest in other gay people. Zero. Apart from Matteo, who is probably so straight that he could just look at a bird and get her all radiant and pregnant.

Well that’s what I used to think about Dad so obviously I have zero gaydar which means I will be single all my life because I will never take a hint if someone flirts with me and I will never in a million years dare to flirt with anyone. I mean I had Matteo right in front of me. I had his undivided attention. And all I could do was kind of drool and mutter infantile mumbo-jumbo.

 

Which brings me back to how I have ended up lying on the floor under this staircase here trying not to die.

Because I think it was the smell that tipped me over the edge. The dusty musty smell of the Drama department on the top floor of Hartvig Nissen’s School. Big showy attic classrooms with rails and rails of old clothes and props. Beanbags instead of desks and chairs, and clipboards all over the floor for when inspiration hits.

It was all apparently Jonas vision when he took over as head of Drama, to create space in the attic classrooms where creativity could flow, and learning would be chilled and inspirational.

Well it made me feel nauseous the minute I hit the top step of the staircase and saw the open door to the classroom. People milling through the opening and that smell. The damp dirty dust.

I knew it was coming and I couldn’t even think clearly where to run. The waves were suddenly everywhere pushing and tugging at me and I kind of half fell down the stairs with my heart beating out of my chest whilst I was struggling to breathe. I couldn’t breathe. I was already under water, making those out of body sounds that I dread to think what they actually sound like because to me I sound like a freak. Like I am dying. Because I am. I am underwater and fighting the fucking waves who just keep coming at me like some fucked up gang of thugs on a mission to destroy me.

 

I have no idea how long I was out. I tend to pass out. Faint with fear. Yeah, I’m a real big man me, scaring myself shitless until I make myself faint. And even when I pass out I can still come back to consciousness still treading water and screaming my lungs out.

 

I’m not screaming today. I am just lying curled up in the foetal position with my arms tight around something that it takes me a while to figure out what it is.

 

It’s a body. It’s kind of moving in my face, rising and falling against me. Which is odd. But in a way nice. There are also fingers combing though my hair, soft little strokes in random patterns whilst I am crazy breathing into someone’s stomach. And t-shirt. The cotton fabric in front of me is damp with sweat and snot and my tears and my breath. And I am hiccupping. Still hyperventilating which I need to calm down before I pass out again. I should breathe into a paper bag, I always have one in my bag, it’s just I can’t make myself move.

 

Because In the middle of the fucked-up state I am in, I feel safe. Someone cares enough to have not only noticed, but also stayed with me. Which doesn’t happen unless someone calls the school nurse who is nice enough, but totally clueless to what I need when I lose myself like this.

Not like whoever this is who is letting me squeeze the shit out of him as my arms automatically tighten around his waist. I am holding onto him like he is my lifebuoy out at sea, and then he speaks.

 

Which sets me off into a panic-ridden tailspin.

 

Because of course I am lying on Matteo’s lap, with my arms around his waist and he is stroking my head and asking me how I am feeling.

‘’Like shit’’ I croak out into his stomach.

‘’You haven’t been down long. Just lie here until you feel better. There is no rush.’’

 

Stroke Stroke Stroke. Tangle. Fingers against my scalp. And another stroke. Then his hand is on my back, calmly rubbing the length of my spine.

 

‘’Jonas knows were here and said we should just come up when you are ready. We can sit here the whole lesson if you need it. ‘’

 

I don’t know what to say. I just curl further into him. Push my knees up so they are flush against his backside.

He smells of soap. Of some laundry detergent I don’t recognize. I should ask what he uses so I can kind of buy it and keep it in jars all over the house to make everything smell of Matteo.

Not that I will ever speak to him again. Not after the spectacle I must have made of myself to end up like this. Clinging to him like a baby.

 

‘’Can I borrow your phone?’’ He asks. I try to nod into his stomach as he leans over and fishes my iPhone out of my back pocket. Grabs my arm and forces my hand around so he can use my thumb to unlock it, whilst I pant desperately into his guts and let my arm recoil back around his waist with a groan.

‘’I’m going to put my number in your contacts. And send myself a text so I have yours. Is that OK?’’

‘’Why?’’ I squeal weakly. I still haven’t got my head together. I still have my guard down.

‘’Because nobody should go through what you go through alone. ‘’ he says softly, whilst his stomach is moving up and down against me. Like he is trying to calm himself down as his fingers drum against the glass, and a familiar ping goes off on his phone that must be buried somewhere in his jacket. It’s close. Vibrating against his body.

‘’I’ve added you on Insta, and why are you called Even on Facebook?’’

‘’M’Dad.’’ I breathe out through my mouth. Hard. Breathe back in. Focus Max. Focus.

‘’Don’t’’ He whispers. ‘’Don’t try so hard. Just lie here and snuggle until you can breathe better.’’

The fingers are back in my hair. Stroking softly.

‘’Do you want to tell me why you snoop on your Dad’s Facebook?’’ I can hear it in his voice, that he is smiling. Taking the piss. Whilst I am slowly dying again.

‘’Not snooping. Dad doesn’t do social media, but we started an account for him for some reason and I still have it. I haven’t got Facebook.’’ I am almost totally out of breath after squirming out all those words in one go. So now I am back panting whilst my chest aches with the over exhaustion.

‘’Max, seriously, Pumpkin.’’ He is still smiling.

‘’Pumpkin?’’ I squeal. He is ridiculous. Even more ridiculous than me.

‘’I always wanted to call someone Pumpkin, Hanna wouldn’t let me, she doesn’t believe in terms of endearment. Says they strip people of dignity. Anyway, you are a little pumpkin so I’m calling you that. ‘’

‘’Hanna?’’ Shit. Here we go. Girlfriend. Go on. Crush my heart. Just stomp on it.

‘’Yeah? Red head chick I always hang out with. She’s my best friend in the whole world. We have known eachother since we went to German toddler group as kids, and then we played naked in each other’s paddling pools. I have pictures. They are really useful when I need to get Hanna to do me favours. ‘’ He giggles softly, and I don’t know what to say. So not a girlfriend. Well there is probably more. Next minute he will start to talk about the love of his life who is the prettiest girl in the world or some shit.

‘’Anyway, Pumpkin’’ He continues and he’s stroking again. His flat palm rubbing circles over my shoulder.  ‘’When these things happen, just call me. Or text me. Just a word of where you are, and I will come and find you, because these panic-thingy's you get are scary as hell when you are just watching from the side-lines. I saw you have one a while back and the damn school nurse wouldn’t let me near you. She said just to let you get on with it, and you looked so fucking scared. It wasn’t right. It was almost cruel. I got to you first this time and you calmed down much quicker when I was holding on to you. You shouldn’t be on your own like this. Just promise you will call me. Or text, or just shout for me and someone will go get me. ‘’

He sounds almost distraught. Like I have scarred him for life with my fucked-up panic attacks.

‘’I can’t control it. They just come on so quickly and I lose all sense of reality. I just get so fucking scared.’’

Here we go. Here come the tears of relief. Another of my party tricks.

 

He tugs me closer as I bury my face back in the warmth of him. He smells so bloody nice. His stomach is my new happy place. I could die right now and I would be happy. Put it on my freaking tomb stone. ’Here lies Max Bech. Died happy face down in a stomach of bliss smelling of summer breeze detergent. Available in all reputable supermarkets and detergent retailers.’

 

‘’Which is why you shouldn’t be alone. You are so bloody pig-headed not letting anyone be your friend. People try all the time, inviting you to stuff and trying to talk to you and you just flip them of flip them off like they annoy you. Well don’t flip me off Pumpkin. Trust me. I am like a leech when I put my mind to it. Just ask Hanna. I sleep in her bed just so she won’t get herself a boyfriend. Because I am always there. Snuggling up to her and annoying the shit out of her. She doesn’t really mind me being there though, and to be honest she has probably shagged that Henrik in 3STb already and just not told me. Fucking girls and their fucking drama and secrets. ‘’

 

He’s funny and I am kind of half laughing under my tears and sobs. Hiccups and spasms travelling through my body as he strokes my arms.

‘’Thank you’’ I snivel out. I mean it. I am so fucking grateful that he is still here.

‘’Anytime Pumpkin. Please promise you will call me. If you don’t I will find out and then I will have to follow you around like some creep just in case. And everyone will talk about me being totally out of order stalking you and it will be this big gossip drama shit and everyone will think I have a massive crush on you.’’

 

I don’t dare to look up. I just snort.

 

This is the time when I should say something smart. Like raise an eyebrow at him and ask innocently ‘’Have you? Have you got a crush on me?’’ with a seductive smile. Blow him a kiss. Act totally inappropriately and smarmy and make him run away faster than light.

 

I don’t. Of course. Instead I hug him like a crazy person. I am a crazy person.

 

‘’Let’s get you sat up Pumpkin.’’ He says.

I don’t look him in the eye. I can’t. It’s to raw. Too much. I am messy. I am me. I can’t. I just can’t.

 

He drags me out of our under stairs hiding place. I don’t even remember crawling in there, but I must have. I am cold. Shivering even though I am still wearing my jacket. Shrugging whilst Matteo dusts off my back and turns me around so we are facing eachother.

 

He’s as tall as me. I never noticed that. He is. His eyes looking at mine with that smile beaming at me. Whilst my face probably looks like it has been in a serious altercation with a snot machine, all bloated and blotchy from tears.

 

‘’You’re OK. Max 1-Panic 0. Now let’s go and listen to the losers upstairs try to write epic theatre. Whilst we silently laugh at their pathetic romance shite. Shall we get in there and fix it? Give them some proper drama? Whaddya say Pumpkin?’’

 

He flicks his fringe out of his eyes with a jerk of his head. Beams at me with a mischievous arch of his eyebrow.

 

Fuck. I am done for. I will never survive this. This crazy idea of having Matteo for a friend. I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t know If my fragile heart can take it.

I don’t know shit. I just follow him blindly up the stairs and walk into the classroom behind him letting the door slam shut behind us.

 

 

 

TO: [Maximillian.Bech@nissenmail.no](mailto:Maximillian.Bech@nissenmail.no)

FROM: [Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no](mailto:Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no)

SUBJECT:

 

Max. Can you please tell your Dad to back off?

Isak

 

TO: [Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no](mailto:Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no)

FROM: [Maximillian.Bech@nissenmail.no](mailto:Maximillian.Bech@nissenmail.no)

RE:

What has he done now?

 

TO: [Maximillian.Bech@nissenmail.no](mailto:Maximillian.Bech@nissenmail.no)

FROM: [Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no](mailto:Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no)

RE:

He sent me flowers. To my place of work. Not cool.

Please explain to him how inappropriate this is.

Isak.

 

TO: [Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no](mailto:Isak.Valtersen@hartvignissen.edu.no)

FROM: [Maximillian.Bech@nissenmail.no](mailto:Maximillian.Bech@nissenmail.no)

RE:

Tell him yourself.

Even Bech. 07787322544

Facebook Even Bech. He is the one with no profile pic.

[Even.Bech@oslo.legevakt.gov.no](mailto:Even.Bech@oslo.legevakt.gov.no)

[evensuperdad@gmail.no](mailto:evenbechsuperdad@gmail.no)


	12. Mening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Den offentlige mening er en meget troløs venn.  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

He’s not quiet coming through the door. Huffing and puffing thrashing around and Even can hear the beat of whatever he is listening to seeping through the headphones that seem to be surgically attached to his head these days.

 

And yes, here he is. Straight in the fridge without even acknowledging Even’s existence despite him being right there at the table. With a random selection of coffee cups in front of him and the laptop plugged in to the socket by the stove behind him, which makes the whole kitchen a death-trap. They need to go to IKEA. Get some extension leads and one of those USB charging things and plates and cups that match. Maybe. If that is still a thing. Maybe mismatching cups and plates is a thing these days and Even’s house is totally on trend and he hasn’t even noticed.

Well he knows fuck all about interior design. Just that he had the entire house painted white before they moved in and furnished it with stuff he had kind of always had, and some random tat from second hand places, and they have kind of learned to live with it. The kitchen table is still far too big, and 6 chairs might have been overkill since they only ever use half of them.

Oh, yep. Here they go. The Polish dried sausage he splashed out on at Mathallarna on the way home is now spread out on the table, along with the grapes and a now open bag of crisps. And a random banana that Max is taking big showy bites out of.

‘’You OK?’’ He asks. And Max just nods.

He looks pale. A little worn out.

‘’Did you have one today?’’ He doesn’t need to clarify more. They both know. And Max doesn’t even argue when Even reaches to open the drawer that houses his home stethoscope and medical supplies. Lifts his shirt up in automatic and lets the cold steel rest against his chest. Takes deep breaths just as he is supposed to.

There is no arrhythmia. His heartbeat is good and strong. Pulse a little high but that’s just Max.

‘’Can I take your blood pressure?’’ He might as well since Max is cooperating. If he had the right equipment here he would have liked to take some bloods. Check his liver function and iron levels just to make sure. But he knows not to push it. And Max usually cooperates with the twice yearly full health checks Even insists on.

Max eyeroll comes as no surprise. He still let’s his jacket fall off his shoulders, sliding onto the floor with a thud to expose the pale arms underneath. They could both do with an afternoon in the sun. Maybe a long walk around Sognsvann.

‘’Did you send Isak flowers today Dad?’’

Yep. Here we go. And Even is blushing as he removes the blood pressure cuff and spends a ridiculous amount of time placing the equipment back up into the drawer.

‘’Do you think it was too much?’’ Even reluctantly replies. He didn’t think. Just went with the impulse of it all.

‘’Dad. He’s a bloke. What the hell is he supposed to do with a bunch of flowers?’’ Max is smirking. Like he is quite amused. Like it’s funny.

‘’I don’t know, give them to his Mum or something? I googled and there was chocolates and biscuit tins with hearts on them and catering packs of Kvikklunsj or you could have some dude come home on a Sunday morning and bake you bloody rolls but that didn’t sound appropriate to me. ‘’

Even is waving his hands around and pointing at the screen of the laptop. ‘’It’s a Danish thing, some dude will turn up at your house and bake morning rolls in the buff and play guitar whilst you eat them. Fucking hell. ‘’ He probably looks a little deranged himself, all flustered and embarrassed whilst Max takes another bite of dried sausage and shakes his head.

‘’Dad, I think you need to try a little harder. Isak is cool. He probably has some shit hot boyfriend in the wings and you need to compete with that. Flowers is not going to cut it. ‘’

‘’There’s this steak restaurant that will deliver dinner, with wine all ready cooked except you flash fry the steak at home to get it to perfection. It had some kind of money back guarantee. ‘’ Even is tapping away at the keyboard whilst Max giggles.

‘’Oh Dad.’’

‘’What?’’

‘’You can’t send the bloke a steak.’’

‘’Why not? Everyone likes steak? And it comes with a suitable bottle of red wine?’’

‘’Maybe you should just talk to him?’’

‘’He hates me. I need to do something nice for him to make him happy. So, he doesn’t hate me as much. ‘’

‘’Talking to him and maybe spend some time with him, then he will see that you are a nice bloke and he won’t hate you.’’

 

Yeah, Max doesn’t look convinced either.

 

‘’Go big or go home’’ Even sighs.

‘’So, Limousine and red roses and someone playing the violin outside his front door?’’

 

Even actually laughs. It’s ridiculous. He hasn’t got a clue. Despite having spent most of the day googling ‘’How to get your man.‘’ He won’t mention the articles he has read on cocksucking though. He’s not quite ready to face the fact that sucking Isak’s cock might be very high up on his life goals list right now. Despite it being a terrifying thought.

 

‘’Max, help me out. How do I get him to like me? I have apologized, and I have made an arse out of my self by sending him flowers.’’

‘’Did Isak text you?’’ Max is on his 4th sausage. And Even grabs the last one from the pack and chews furiously. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that Isak isn’t his and it’s not fair that Max ate all the sausages. Even loves these fucking sausages.

‘’Yes. I assume you gave him my number. ‘’

‘’He told me to tell you to back off.  I told him to do it himself. Along with your number.’’ Max snorts and walks over to the fridge, taking large gulps out of the orange juice carton whilst Even just sighs. Whatever. He does it himself.

‘’What did he say?’’ Max is smiling now. Smirking. His eyes twinkling with laughter as Even can’t help letting another embarrassed smile escape.

‘’Told me to fuck off and never contact him again. Tough. I now have his number.’’ Even smiles triumphantly and raises a hand to high five his son who slides effortlessly back into the chair,  shoving a handful of crisps in his mouth, chewing and spitting crumbs all over the table.

 

He might have the worst table manners in the history of table manners, but Max is laughing and Even will gladly make a complete fool out of himself every day for the rest of his life if this is the reaction he is going to get.

 

‘’So maybe you should text him back? Say, sorry about the flowers and that you are a complete novice of trying to woo the love of your life and that you have a lifetime of mistakes to make up for and that you love him and want to do indescribably dirty kinky shit to his body and ….’’ Max has kind of run out of steam whilst Even is banging his head against the table top.

 

‘’Please don’t mention cocksucking. I can’t do cocksucking. Not yet.’’

He doesn’t mean it. Really. He has questions about cocksucking. Questions that are totally inappropriate to ask his son and that google has been most unhelpful in answering.

 

‘’Maybe you should ask Isak for advice? Say you have no clue about sex and need some tips?’’

‘’No.’’ Even groans, his head still flush against the table. Banging his forehead against the hard surface in a steady rhythm that does nothing to help the fucking confusion swirling around in his brain.

‘’Tell him you need to get laid. And that there is only one person you want to get laid with. Go on Dad. Live a little. Release your inner slut.’’

‘’I’m not a slut. I am a grown up and the last time I got laid I made you. ‘’

 

He can’t believe he said that out loud. That he admitted to it.

 

‘’Really?’’ Max is speechless. For once. Just staring at him. ‘’Seriously? And your dick is still attached to your body? It hasn’t just shrivelled up and died from neglect? ‘’

‘’Can we change the subject?’’ Even squeals. Because this is not a conversation he is prepared to have right now. Honestly.

‘’No Dad. So, let’s get the facts straight. You have been in love with Isak since you were a teenager. But you went out and shagged around. With girls.’’

‘’I shagged my girlfriend. Then I shagged your Mum. Two girls.’’ Even corrects. Then dies a little. He needs to stop talking.

‘’And how many boys did you shag?’’

‘’Shut up.’’ Here we go. Grumpy Even is back.

‘’So, zero men. And you still like the idea of shagging Isak?’’ Max is leaning back on his seat. Looking serious. Like he is discussing world peace or something.

‘’He is the only person I have ever truly been in love with. And I was so bloody young, I have no idea of I am still in love with him or if it’s just a crazy idea in my head, that I would still be. That he would have always been the one, the one I was destined to be with. The love of my life. I just want to get to know him and see if there is something there. I can’t do anything else. If I don’t, then I will go crazy wondering what if. What if there could have been a happy ending to this mess? What if he got to know me and realized that I am nice. That I would love him if he let me. That maybe he would learn to love me too if we just tried?’’

‘’So, in other words you are desperate. Pathetic Dad. There are things out there you know. Like Grindr. ‘’

‘’What’s Grindr?’’ Even’s mouth is hanging onto his every word.

‘’This app where you can put in what you like and what kind of blokes you fancy and people put pics of their dicks so you can kind of see what you are getting. Then you meet up and shag. Easy. ‘’

‘’And you do this?’’ Even almost squeals out. ‘’Fuck Max, you are grounded. You are not going out meeting strangers in some back alley just so you can get some dick. Absolutely not. I forbid it.’’

Yeah. He’s doing the crazy again. Waving his arms around whilst Max is just laughing.

‘’I would never in a million years use Grindr. What do you think of me? I can’t even make friends and had a panic attack when I had to ring and make a dentist appointment. Do you seriously think I would manage to go through with a hook-up?’’

Even breathes. In Out. Yeah. Suppose not. Thank God.

‘’Don’t. ‘’ He says sternly and pokes his finger at Max. ‘’No Grindr.’’

‘’But you are a fully grown adult and there would be loads of really hot blokes willing to teach you to suck cock if that’s what you want. ‘’

‘’I don’t. I don’t want to bloody suck cock. I just want to be with Isak. OK? That’s all I want. I want to be his friend. I want him to forgive me. And then I might want to suck his cock. ‘’

 

Smooth Even. Really good conversation.

 

‘’Good plan Dad. ‘’Max sighs, throwing the empty sausage wrapper towards the sink. Missing completely as the paper lands pathetically back on the floor next to them.

‘’I should have bought more sausages.’’ Even sighs.

‘’Yeah.’’ Max huffs. ‘’They’re nice. ‘’

‘’Thank you. For talking to me. I should just give up, shouldn’t I. Leave him alone. He obviously doesn’t want anything to do with me. ‘’ Even slams the laptop shut. Runs his fingers thorough the grey strands of hair on his head.

‘’Maybe he is just as scared as you?’’

‘’Isak was never scared. He’s the bravest bloke I have ever met. Even when I was vile to him he was always defiant. Pushing back and trying not to let me win.’’

‘’Then tell him how scared you are. Be truthful. Say you are scared of how you feel and ask him if you can just talk to him. You can only be honest Dad. ‘’

‘’You say this from experience?’’ Even is taking the piss. He knows full well there is no experience. But he doesn’t want to stop talking. Doesn’t want to be alone. Please don’t leave me alone.

The vibration from his mobile phone makes him jolt and Max leans over as the screen lights up.

‘’You added him as ISAK with a red heart emoji? Oh Dad. Such a romantic gesture.’’

 

Yeah. Max is laughing again. Fine. He can give him that.

 

‘’Yes, it was either that or Twat-Isak. I thought I should try to turn a new leaf. ‘’

‘’Mature Dad. ‘’

‘’I know. ‘’

‘’What does he say?’’

‘’Hi Even. Please do not send any more gifts. We are not friends. We are nothing. I am your son’s teacher and as such need to maintain a fully professional relationship with Maximillian to ensure his education is completed. I will of course follow through with my duties to your son, but beyond that please respect my privacy. Best Isak Valtersen’’

‘’Ouch.’’

‘’Ouch indeed.’’ Even smiles. ‘’Game on.’’

‘’Dad….’’

‘’I’m sending him chocolates tomorrow. 72 Kvikklunsj in a gift basket. The perfect gift for the chocolate lover. ‘’

‘’Dad. Don’t’’ But Max is laughing. Shaking his head like he can’t quite believe it.

‘’I have nothing to lose. I might as well roll with this. Until he agrees to go out for a walk and let me talk to him. Buy him coffee. That’s all I want. ‘’

‘’Dad. You are fucking bonkers.’’

‘’Nope’’ Even laughs. ‘’I’m a man on a mission. ‘’


	13. Ledelse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Det er en annen sak å være fører for en liten hær som rykker frem, enn for en stor på tilbaketog.  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you for all the amazing comments on the last chapter, I am so pleased if I made you smile, and you enjoyed it! 
> 
> I know most of you have read my ridiculous fics before, but if you are new to me and my ramblings let me just explain. 
> 
> I am not a professional writer. English is not my first language, and writing in Scandi is still a terrifying thought. I don't write grammatically correct English and you will find mistakes since I don't usually use a Beta-reader (I am too damn impatient to post!) I tend to re-read my chapters and correct most bloopers but it is easy to get blind to your own text, so feel free to point out mistakes if they annoy you. 
> 
> I am incredibly grateful for all of you who read along and comment and kudos and Jodel and tweet and DM me. Especially my wonderful fellow Norwegian posse who don't hold back on the feedback and steer me right in the cultural nightmare that is Kvikk lunsj and Harry-tur allowances. You know who you are. Thank you. 
> 
> A Harry-tur is a roadtrip over the border to Sweden to stock up on ''cheaper than Norway'' food and booze. Also the Swedish Sweet selection is enormous compared to Norway. GodisFabriken is a well known confectionary warehouse over the border. 
> 
> Kexchoklad is the Swedish version of Kvikk lunsj, differently shaped and the chocolate is very very thin, giving you a crispy melt in the mouth treat, where the Kvikk lunsh is a four fingered thick chocolate covered wafer, similar to a Kit Kat bar.

 

’’Valtersen?’’

Fuck. That’s Anita. The school-office-Dictator slash administrator and self proclaimed God of rules and paperwork. Isak is never in her good books. He’s consistently late with forms and has totally bought the idea that ‘Online is King.’ Whilst Anita is firmly stuck in the 1970ies or something.

And of course, Isak is standing in the middle of the corridor with nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

‘’Valtersen!!’’

Now she’s mad. Great.

 

‘’Yes Anita, how are you today?’’ He tries to smile his most charming smile.

‘’Can you come with me please?’’ She snarls. She is not happy. Well Isak tries to rack his brain with what he has done this time. What he could have possibly missed. He has printed and signed his timesheets and submitted last weeks summaries. He should be pretty much in the clear? He hopes.

She stops in front of the reception desk and turns around to face him.

‘’Valtersen Hartvig Nissen’s School is not a post office. We do not accept deliveries for staff during school hours. You will have to arrange for any items to be delivered to your home address. Consider this a warning Valtersen, the next time we will refuse to accept your, whatever you call this. ‘’

She’s waving her hand over some pink cellophaned monstrosity of a basket from something called ‘Lovesurprises.no’. Isak does not love surprises. And whatever it is. Fuck. He knows exactly what this is.

‘’Thank you so much Anita, it won’t happen again.’’

‘’No, it won’t she huffs and stomps off whilst Isak just wants to die. Seriously. And now he has to carry this, whatever it is, up to his classroom because there is just not enough time to drop by the teacher’s lounge, and anyway that’s how gossip starts. It was bad enough with the bloody flowers yesterday. Which, by the way, he took home and awkwardly placed in a bucket on his balcony.

 

Because he doesn’t own a proper vase anymore. He did. But Espen smashed it into the sink during some heated discussion about something Isak doesn’t even want to remember.

It hadn’t been a good relationship. It had been full of anger and jealousy and accusations and childish behaviour from both parts and for the first time Isak is kind of grateful that it’s not his problem anymore. That he can look back and see that it wasn’t healthy. Not right. And now he has moved on from the drama. He is never going to let himself into a situation like that again. Never.

 

He manages to get upstairs into the quiet safety of the Biology classroom without anyone paying any attention to the pink crinkly horrendous thing in his arms. Thank God. He needs to stop this ridiculousness. Right now.

It still doesn’t stop his childish curiosity of peeking inside. And anyway, this pink sparkly cellophane needs to disappear before any of the students come in. Seriously.

 

He almost panics with the frenzy of tearing it all apart. Bloody ridiculous plastic and packaging and the bow is seriously over the top, and the damn stubborn shit just won’t stay down in the pathetic waste of a wastebasket that he stomps his foot inside to try to keep the cellophane from expanding into a pink sparkly mess under his desk.

It’s ridiculous. As is the content. A square basked with row after row of Kvikklunsj bars neatly stacked with a lovesurprises.no card fastened with yet another ridiculous bow.

He takes a deep breath before ripping the card off and falls back in the chair with a sigh. Damn. Damn Damn Damn.

 

_‘I hope I made you smile. Even.’_

 

No, you didn’t you fucker. He thinks. You big arse. Twatface. Imbecilic wanker of the century.

 

He says neither out loud. Instead he places the basket neatly at the back of the desk as the grade 2 students mill in amongst chatter and scrapes of chairs and the usual banter. 

He’s not supposed to use his mobile in class. Neither are the students, but Isak just can’t help himself.

 

**Please stop.**

He doesn’t expect a reply, yet there it is. Clearly on his screen in black and white.

**Did I make you smile?**

 

He throws the phone onto his bag on the floor. He will deal with Even later.

 

‘’OK you little shits, Pop Quiz!’’

Isak is not supposed to call his students ‘’Little shits.’’ Not that they care, because they are all groaning and sighing and a few of them are taking back to him. Hurling childish insults at him whilst he flicks on to the first diagram on the laptop, which displays perfectly on the screen behind him.

‘’What term best describes the state of the cells labelled E on the diagram behind you?’’

The class falls silent. As expected. None of them are remotely interested in Turgid cells in the Osmosis cycle. Tough.

‘’Turgid?’’ some girl at the back shouts and Isak fist pumps and grabs a Kvikklunsj bar, throwing it in a perfect volley to the girl who catches it one handed as the class cheers.

 

This is fun. He can do this.

 

‘’Which of the following features of a leaf is NOT related to it's role in gas exchange?’’

He has another bar of Kvikklunsj twirling between his fingers, as he turns around and points at the four options displayed on the screen behind him and suddenly the class is all ears. A few students tapping furiously on their phones. Googling no doubt.

‘’Vascular Bundles?’’ The boy in row two shouts, standing up and taking a bow after catching his chocolate.

The class is cheering. And everyone’s laptops are now open. He doesn’t give a fuck. They might learn something.

 

‘’Normal concentration of Carbon dioxide in the air?’’ Isak shouts as at least 3 students shout back at him with 0.04% which releases 3 more bars flying in perfect arches to their outstretched hands.

He keeps going. Throwing out some ridiculously hard questions. And a few easy ones to the guys he knows will struggle. Well whatever. 40 minutes later he is 27 bars of chocolate poorer and has laughed more than he has in a long time.

 

By the time the students are milling out the door, leaving wrappers everywhere Isak is actually smiling as he walks around picking up the damn things. He’s almost forgotten about Even for a while despite the damn evidence being everywhere in the room.

He doesn’t look at his phone. He doesn’t want to know what else Even has texted him, because no doubt he will have sent something. Always getting the last word in.

 

Isak doesn’t even take his phone out of his bag until he is going to bed and needs to set his alarm, and the thought of having another text actually fills him with fear. He doesn’t want to deal with this.

He has a good little life, in his 2-bed flat. A living room that he tends to do everything in, eat and sleep using the small alcove as his bedroom. Well apart from watch TV since the damn thing is broken and Isak can’t bear to start researching which TV to get that will suit his gaming needs (he hasn’t gamed for years but he might take it up again?) and be high spec enough to deal with big showy movies (Isak can’t remember the last time he watched a movie). He should just buy one off the shelf. But that goes against everything Isak is. He is a born researcher. He compares and studies and reads up on things to make an educated decision. Well apart from his disastrous choices in boyfriends. Obviously.

The second room overlooking the courtyard is his office, full of his books and work files where he works. And then there’s the kitchen with it’s spotless hob that never gets any use, and the microwave that looks like something has exploded inside it. He really should buy a new one. He should think of renovating. He should buy himself a new sofa and a TV. Seriously.

His stomach feels uneasy as he unlocks the phone, and he can’t help the sigh escaping his mouth as the screen lights up with another message.

He should block that number. Or add it to his contacts so he can report it for harassment. Print out the texts and send an email to the police.

 

Not that he ever will. It’s Even. Fucking Even.

 

**I hope you have had a good day, and that the Chocolate made you smile. I just wanted to do something nice for you. Even.**

He doesn’t know what to reply to that. I mean what do you reply to that?

 

**Even. It didn’t make me smile. I got a warning from my place of work, the school that I really enjoy teaching at and where I would like to continue to work for many years ahead. I don’t want to risk getting into any more trouble. You and I communicating is not appropriate since I am your son’s Mentor Teacher. Please understand how awkward, wrong and ridiculous this is.**

 

Isak presses send and breathes out. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath.

 

**Isak. We have known eachother for a very long time. It was never a friendship, but you and I both know that what happened between us at school was awkward, wrong and ridiculous. I need to put it right, for you, and for my own peace of mind. Please help me.**

 

**There is nothing to put right Even.**

 

**Yes, there is. There is a lifetime of mistakes.**

 

**Even, I have a good happy life. You are an arsehole. You need to move on.**

 

**See? There is something we need to fix right there. I was an arsehole. I have spent my whole adult life trying not to be an arsehole. I’m a nice person Isak.**

 

**No, you are not. I have asked you to stop. You just won't stop. Please stop.**

 

**No.**

 

**Why the hell not. What do you want from me?**

 

**I just want to talk to you. Get to know you.**

 

**Why on earth would you do that? I’m still a fucking queer faggot Even.**

There is a long pause. Not even a speech bubble forming on his screen, and Isak is almost disappointed, when he should be relieved.  He should put his phone on silent. He should block the freaking number.

 

**And I’m a selfish human being who just wants to feel a little bit better about myself.**

 

He throws the phone across the bed and groans out in frustration. Trust Even to try to pull on the heartstrings.

 

**WHAT.DO.YOU.WANT.FROM.ME?**

 

**I want to sit down and talk with you. I would love to have you over for dinner but I understand that you wouldn’t agree to that. Would you have a coffee with me?**

 

**No Even.**

 

**Please.**

 

**NO EVEN.**

 

**OK, fine. Lovesurprises.no has some brilliant cheesy gift ideas. Did you see the fruit baskets? What do you prefer, the exotic fruits or banana explosion?**

 

**EVEN DO NOT SEND ANY MORE SHIT TO NISSEN. I WILL GET FIRED.**

 

He won’t. But whatever.

 

**No, you won’t. Do you prefer chocolate? The Belgian handmade collection looks amazing.**

**Even. No. NO NO NO NO NO NO.**

 

Isak groans. He hasn’t got a clue how to stop this.

 

**Tell me what you like. Tell me what would make you smile and I promise not to send anything else to Nissen.**

**I don’t trust you.**

 

There is another pause.

 

**I know you don’t. You don’t know how devastating it is to know that. I hope you will one day. I hope that we can be friends and maybe one day we can laugh about this.**

 

**We will never be friends Even.**

 

**Then why are you still talking to me?**

 

Good point.

 

**So that I can ensure that I still have a job next week and that Anita in the office won’t reject my timesheets for the rest of the term.**

 

**Would you like me to send Anita flowers? To apologize?**

 

Fuck. This is going from bad to worse.

 

**NO EVEN. Please log out from lovesurprises.no and delete your account. That would make me happy.**

**Really?**

**Yes.**

**On one condition.**

**EVEN.**

**Just tell me one thing. What do you like? What really makes you happy?**

**NOT HAVING TO DEAL WITH SHIT LIKE THIS**

**ISAK.**

**Just please stop this.**

**Then tell me. Tell me one thing you love.**

 

This is when Isak should block Even. Not reply. He should just stop. Because it’s not healthy. It’s messing with his head and to be very honest Isak was on the verge of smiling a second ago and **_that_ ** is fucked up on so many levels that Isak doesn’t even want to think about it.

He is happy. He is fine. He works, he goes out for a beer with Jonas every Friday. He visits his Mum. He doesn’t worry about his finances, because apart from clothes he spends fuck all on anything. Apart from Netflix. And internet.

He should buy a TV. He should get a dog. He should pull the duvet over his head and go to sleep. But then he knows full well that he wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink right now.

 

**I love Kexchoklad. The Swedish stuff. I fucking hate Kvikklunsj.**

 

He shouldn’t have sent that. Because he knows Even. You give him an inch and he will just take take and take. He remembers. He hasn’t forgotten a thing. He hasn’t moved on at all.

 

**I am deleting my lovesurprises.no account right now.**

 

The screenshot photo comes in a second later. Account deleted.

 

**Thank you.**

**Would you reconsider the coffee? I’m buying. Public coffeeshop, one coffee, just to talk.**

**No Even. Good night.**

 

 

It’s almost disappointing when there is nothing else. Isak just sits there with the phone in his hand, waiting. For nothing. What the fuck is he thinking?

 

He puts the phone on charge and switches off the light. He is going to sleep. He is going to have a good night’s sleep and, in the morning, he is going to run. Then have breakfast. Then throw away the damn basket that is still on the desk in the biology room, now empty.

He had a good day. His students laughed, and actually paid attention to him even though they were only doing it because he was chucking chocolates at them.

He had actually smiled. Even had made him smile. And he is not quite sure he is OK with that.

 

He flicks the light on again and picks the phone back up. Types out a message and deletes it again.

 

Let’s his finger hoover over the screen. Block this caller. Create new contact.

His heart is racing. It shouldn’t. He is nothing. He is an idiot. He doesn’t need any more damn straight confused men in his life.

He is going to stay single. He is going to be the best teacher he can be. He is going to be happy.

Create new contact. Name. Even. Last name Turdface.

He deletes. Adds Bech. He is a professional. It might be useful to have Maximillian’s father’s number. In case of health-related problems. He is being responsible. Nothing else. He has no reason to have his number, really. None.

 

_If Isak had been able to see into the Bech house, he would have seen Even standing in Max’s doorway with the biggest grin on his face._

_‘’What now Dad?’’ He would have heard Max say, removing the headphones from his head._

_‘’Fancy going on a Harry-Tur over the border? Saturday?’’_

_‘’Always.’’ Max smile would have made Isak smile too._

_‘’I’ll check the carpool site to see if we can get a decent car.’’_

_‘’Why this sudden urge to go to Sweden Dad?’’ Max eyes would have twinkled._

_‘’I drank all the bourbon?’’ Even is laughing though. It’s not like he is likely to drown any sorrows into a bottle of Jack anytime soon._

_‘’Dad….’’_

_‘’OK, Isak likes Kexchoklad. I am thinking one of those huge boxes of full-sized ones from Godisfabriken? Are you with me?’’_

_Max shaking his head and rolling his eyes is just fake. He is loving it. Laughing. So is Even as he closes the door behind him._

 

**Thank you for letting me text with you. I appreciate it. Honestly Isak. Thank you. Good Night.**

****


	14. Kamp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hvor der ingen kamp er, kan der heller ingen seier komme.
> 
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all being so incredibly awesome and supportive and shipping these boys as hard as I am.  
> This is a very silly chapter. Sorry. Will return to serious mode. Promise.
> 
> Even though I have tagged Druck and Skam Austin and the characters I use in this, this is still a Pure SKAM NORWAY Evak fic. I am only playing around adding characters that amuse me and that fit the story. I kind of adore Poonam who is a genius creation and I think a lot of us recognize ourselves in her. I hope she stays as a main character. 
> 
> The bloke in the pic is model Valter Torsleff. He doesn't always look like Max, but in some pictures he is kind of perfect.  
> Matteo is of course Actor Michelangelo Fortuzzi who plays darling Matteo in Druck.

 

 

This Queer Nissen group thing is doing my head in. Not that it’s a challenge I can’t overcome, since it will be a bunch of nerdy girls who I have no interest in, and some openly queer kid who is probably the girl with blue hair and the rainbow jacket in year 1. I should find out her name, it would only be polite. I mean since I am now officially out. Not just to my Dad, but to everyone else.

It’s weird that, that I never had to come out to my Dad, that he just always knew I was me. That the crazy crush on Theo James wasn’t just crazy, but that Dad bought into it and didn’t make me feel weird about it. Instead he bought me every film Theo had ever done on DVD and let me talk through them in awe describing every feature of Theo’s handsome face in detail whilst he just chuckled and made us more popcorn. He also took me to the Divergent fan convention in Copenhagen. Just like that. So, I could have my photo taken with Sharlene. Who of course isn’t Theo but her lips had kind of been on his so it was the closest my pathetic self would ever come. I have a picture of her kissing my cheek. I felt like I had died and gone to heaven. Well that was after I had a panic attack in the queue waiting for my turn and the organizers took me and Dad to the side and then arranged for a private meeting with her. It was like totally awesome. I was 14. Everything was totally awesome. Looking back, it was childish and quite funny, but the photo is still on my wall and I kind of love it. My Dad has one as well. Where he is completely embarrassed and Sharlene looks like she is about to die.

At least Dad didn’t let me get a Divergent Tattoo. Because Hello. It would have been so NOT cool right now to have that shit on my skin. I am getting something else inked as soon as I am 18 though. I am having ‘’Own it’’ Tattooed on my wrist. Just to remind me. When I feel like the world is closing in on me and my illness makes me see everything in black and white, that is when I need to remember that it’s not what I am. I am me. With all that comes with it.

I will probably get a ‘Dad’ Tattoo too at some point. I mean things on your skin is supposed to mean something and tell a story of your life. And however much my Dad is a twat I do love him. He has been the best Dad. However clueless and messy and fucked up he may be. He owns it too. And I am bloody proud of him.

 

‘’There are 14 Isak Valtersen’s in Oslo.’’ Dad says as I stumble into the kitchen and throw myself on the chair as Dad pushes a bowl of oatmeal towards me. Blackberries and Chia Seed today.

‘’Any clue which one is our Isak?’’ I say as I drown my porridge in milk. No sugar. Dad has us both on a strict GI diet, which sucks sometimes, but I fully agree it makes a difference to my moods. Less swings when my sugar levels crash. I don’t miss all the crap we used to eat, because Dad shops carefully and stocks up on Low GI crisps and clever snacks that might taste like cardboard but you kind of get used to them. And I am kind of a fruit-bat anyway, I am quite happy to just sit and work myself through the bags of fruit on the counter if I’m hungry.

‘’I have google mapped all of them and removed everyone living in houses. I don’t think Isak lives in a house on a teacher’s wage. There is one in a retirement complex. Which leaves 7. ‘’

‘’Stalker’’ I grit out through a mouthful of porridge.

‘’I have promised him not to send anything else to Nissen. He’s in trouble with someone called Anita.’’

Dad isn’t even looking up from the laptop, just inhaling his coffee like it’s drugs. It’s decaf. We cut out the caffeine as well.

‘’Anita is scary. If you step over the invisible line behind her desk and the office you get a warning. If you do it twice you get a sit-down chat about boundaries. I’ve had one. Couldn’t help myself. ‘’

Dad just chuckles. Doesn’t even look up when I steal his coffee cup. Well tough, there are no clean cups in the cupboard, and neither of us do washing up. The cleaning team who come on a Friday afternoon do it all and then we just work our way through them until we run out. Pathetic. I know.

‘’Isak always comes in with coffee from Joe and the Juice. No Idea where he get’s it from but it might help narrow it down. There is a Joe en route from where he lives to School. ‘’

‘’Ahh…’’ Dad’s forehead is a mess of concentration. Sticking his tongue out like he is a five-year-old.

‘’Or you could just ask him where he lives.’’

‘’He won’t tell me. He can read me like a book. If I asked he would just fuck with me. Tell me he lives somewhere he doesn’t.’’

 

I leave him to it. But I do refill his cup and clumsily pat him on the head before I leave.

‘’Love you!’’ He shouts after me.

‘’OK Dad’’ I shout back as I close the door.

 

I don’t see Matteo all day. Again. Which is good in a way and bad in another, because now the anxiety is building in my head and I kind of know that if I run into him I will freeze with fear and run the other way. Because that is how I function. When all I really want is to run up and just casually hug him. Say Hi. Behave like a normal human being.

Instead I hide in the Math classroom and write out my thing for the Queer Nissen group. It’s easy. I have been in group therapy for years. I have done so many icebreaker games and get to know you things and let- your-feelings-out-work-shops that I could probably run one in my sleep.

I’ll just run with the basics. Get a feel of how these kids think. It scares the shit out of me just imagining that they will all just laugh at me but Isak will be running it. He will have my back. And then I will never have to turn up again. It’s just a few sentences I need to squeeze out of my mouth and then I’m back in Jonas' good books. Hopefully.

I email my draft to Jonas. Neatly typed out in an email signed and dated like a grown up. Hopefully buying me extra goodwill in case it all goes to shit. I can’t force anyone to participate. I can’t make anyone do anything.

I have a stomach ache as I step into the classroom where the Queer Nissen group meet. A normal classroom where Isak is busy moving all the desks out of the way and putting chairs in a circle. Standard stuff. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. I just stand there. Slightly paralyzed. Because now I’m here I can’t run.

Because of course there is this boy who has just thrown himself around me. Hugging the shit out of me and talking nonstop, saying words that I can’t quite take in, apart from that every second word is.

Pumpkin.

‘’What are you doing here’’ I pant out. Because Hello. It’s not like I’m smooth.

‘’It’s the Queer Nissen group? Of course, I’m here! I’m like the only Queer at School Pumpkin. Apart from you Pumpkin. The rest of the people who come here are great though. It’s a laugh. You’ll see. OMG, I can’t believe you came. You have just made my day. Seriously.’’

I think Matteo needs to breathe. I think I need a Valium. Whilst Isak just laughs over by the chairs in the corner.

‘’You’re Queer?’’ I need to get my mouth a filter. I need to engage my brain. I need not to have a panic attack.

 

Matteo just looks at me like I have two heads.

 

‘’I choose not to label myself. I don’t care Pumpkin. I am what I am. ‘’

‘’I assume you two know eachother then?’’ Isak says as he passes by, as a group of girls enter, all chatting excitedly, then holding his arms up in defeat.

‘’Kornelia, we are NOT watching YouTube clips today.’’

‘’Isak you are no fun. There is this new Philkas video, all Philkas kisses in under two minutes. It’s seriously cute. You have to watch it. ‘’

‘’Philkas?’’ Isak says and the girl who is apparently Kornelia rolls her eyes.

‘’I think we need to watch 30 greatest Larry Proofs again. I still don’t buy it.’’ Another girl says and throws herself on a chair. Then bounces up and stares at me.

‘’You’re here!’’

‘’Yeah?’’ I say back. Trying to sound cocky, when in reality I am probably just as cocky as a bumble bee.

‘’Hands off him Hedda, he’s mine.’’ Matteo says and swats his hand at her as she grabs the sleeve of my jacket and my chest heaves. Please don’t touch me.

‘’You are like the coolest of the cool. Are you really gay? Such a waste.’’

She looks seriously disappointed and the nerves in my stomach settle a little. Matteo’s arms are around my waist. And this Hedda is now shouting at someone called Ida who is trying to argue about some story she has read on line that apparently has the hottest rimming scene.

 

‘’Is it always this crazy?’’ I whisper to Matteo, who is kind of plastered to my back. His arms still around me.

‘’Oh, you haven’t seen crazy yet Pumpkin. Shyla isn’t here yet. Her and Amira are like the tag team of Gay-shipping. They could convince you Donald Trump and Obama Barrack are having a passionate affair by just making you watch cut up YouTube clips for an hour. Trust me, you would totally buy it.’’

 

I thought this would be easy. Like totally group therapy style easy. A bunch of quiet kids who just don’t want to be there. Yet now there are two girls laughing hysterically in the corner as another gaggle of girls walk through the door screaming at someone else who apparently writes the cutest shit, and I have like totally lost the plot.

 

‘’Settle down you crazy people’’ Isak shouts. ‘’And all mobiles off and placed face up in the middle of the circle. This is a safe space. Nothing said in this room leaves the room. Is that clear?’’

 

Isak is doing his teacher mode.

 

‘’Calm your tits man’’ Some girl in a hijab sighs and pushes her mobile into the middle. Quickly followed by everyone else’s phones. Including mine.

‘’Today, we have Max here to help me run some group exercises to get us all to talk about things. ‘’ Isak tries before someone pipes up. ‘’You promised we could watch a film.’’

‘’No, Poonam, we are not watching gay films today. Another time, when I have had a chance to make sure that any films we watch are suitable and non-offensive. ‘’ Isak takes his seat in the circle.

 

‘’But if they are non-offensive, there will be nothing to discuss? It would make a really good discussion if we watched something that might be seen as offensive?’’ The girl called Poonam tries.

‘’You only want to see naked snogging Poon’’ someone teases and Poonam sticks her tongue out.

‘’Don’t we all. I’m only here to talk about cock. And boys kissing. ‘’

‘’Max?’’ Isak begs. ‘’Please help?’’

 

Isak actually looks desperate. Like this is not what he had in mind. Whilst Matteo is laughing so much that he has tears rolling down his cheeks and his hand is in Max's back pocket of his jeans. Just there. Like he’s permanently attached to him. Which is nice. It’s more than nice.

 

‘’Hi!’’ I squeal out. Then I clear my throat. Own it. Fucking Own it.

‘’HI! ‘’ Much better. Strong voice. ‘’I’m Max. I’m gay. And I also have bipolar disorder and suffer from extreme anxiety. ‘’

 

Shit. That’s my line from group therapy. Not Queer Nissen.

 

Not that people seem to care. They are all staring at me and a few of the girls are smiling. Cool.

‘’I thought we could do some exercises to make us talk to eachother, and maybe get to know eachother a little bit. There are no rights or wrongs here, and you only have to share what you feel comfortable with. OK?’’

 

I try to look around the room, but I better not. Fucking scary.

 

‘’So, the first thing we could try is 2 lies and one truth. I will start. I will tell you two lies and one truth. You have to figure out which one is the truth. Feel free to discuss. I won’t help you. So. Are we ready?’’

 

I’m not. I’m nowhere near ready.

 

‘’I have a modelling contract. ‘’ It’s one I usually use. I am tall enough for it to be believable, and it’s would be pretty cool if it was true. It’s not. But a few of the girls are nodding.

‘’I have never been kissed.’’ Yeah that makes people laugh. Shame it’s true.

‘’My favourite band is One Direction. ‘’ Yeah now they are all screaming. I bet none of them have even heard of Within Temptation. Who are like awesome.

 

‘’So now we have to decide which one is the truth?’’ Poonam is eyeballing me. Very suspiciously.

‘’The kissing is definitely not true. Good try Max.’’ the hijab wearing girl says.

‘’I heard you retook year 2 because you were filming this horror movie….’’ One girl starts whilst her friend nudges her violently.

‘’Horror movie?’’ I squeal out. I hadn’t heard that one.

‘’Ignore her. She’s brain dead. ‘’ someone else says.'' I would say Modelling contract is true, but then you are not the kind of kid to brag about it. I’m going with One Direction. They’re cool.''

‘’They have split up. But Harry Styles is gay.’’

‘’Harry is fluid.’’

‘’Harry doesn’t need to define himself. He is awesome.’’

‘’Who is Harry?’’ I whisper to Matteo who is now in a state almost falling of the chair. Squealing with held back laughter.

 

‘’I’m going with the kissing.’’ The girl called Kornelia is staring at me. Hard.

 

I decide to reign this in. Fuck it.

 

‘’And Kornelia is the winner. Good job. Now, who is next?’’

 

‘’You’ve never been kissed?’ Poonam screams. ‘’Fuck there is not hope for me then. Seriously dude? Not even a girl?’’

‘’Nope’’ I smile. ‘’I’m gay, and I haven’t even kissed a girl.’’

 

Fuck this is ridiculous. What the hell was Isak thinking?

 

‘’I’ll go next.’’ Matteo says and clears his throat. Sit’s up straight.

‘’I’ve never been to a rock concert.’’

‘’Lame.’’ Someone shouts. Whilst Matteo just laughs.

‘’I intend to give Max here his first kiss.’’

 

Now everyone is screaming and my face is about to explode with the amount I am blushing. Even Isak is clapping. Fuck him.

 

‘’I would totally do Harry Styles.’’

 

Yeah now the room is chaos. Everyone talking in each other’s faces. Whilst Matteo leans over and kisses my cheek.

‘’Sorry. But I promise to kiss you properly some other time. When we haven’t got an audience of crazies. ‘’

‘’You’re crazy’’ I whisper to him. His face too near to mine.

‘’No, that’s you. I’m totally sane. ‘’ He’s smiling again. Fuck I love his smile.

 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck my life. This. Fuck.

 

‘’Hedda!’’ I shout.’’ You decide. Which of Matteo’s statements is the truth?’’

 

I should be a teacher. I kind of rock at this.

 

‘’He wants you. I mean look at you Matti. You’re desperate. Easy Max, Matteo wants to deflower your mouth in a passionate kiss….’’

Yeah now Hedda is being disgusting. Licking her lips at Matteo who is blowing air kisses back at her with gusto.

 

‘’Next?’’

 

So Poonam has a crush on a genderless person in year 3. Great. And Kornelia once sucked someone off in the B block toilets and Hedda is terrified of pigeons and Tua wants to publish filthy gay romance for people to actually read and ‘’Call me by your name is ‘’ Laura’s favourite film and then we have…

‘’Isak?’’

‘’Do I have to?’’

I don’t have to reply to that. Everyone is screaming.

 

He has gone bright red. Isak is embarrassed. And I kind of feel like Matteo because I am smiling as hard as he is.

 

‘’I have a cat.’’

‘’LAAAAMMMEE’’ Everyone moans.

‘’I loved Call me by your name.’’

‘’Traitor’’ Kornelia screams.

‘’My first kiss was with a straight bloke.’’

 

‘’Ohhhhh’’ Poonam is about to fall off her chair. ‘’He wasn’t so straight then.’’ She looks almost triumphant.

‘’No, he was.’’ Isak tries but everyone is now shouting at him.

‘’We will need to hear the rest of this story.’’ Matteo shouts from the edge of his chair. His hand resting on my knee.

‘’Nope. Never.’’ Isak squeals. His face is like scarlet pink. I bet he is wishing he had said he prefers Kexchoklad to Kvikk lunsj. Would have been much safer than this can of worms.

‘’So, did you just throw yourself at him and then he screamed he wasn’t gay or something?’’ Poonam clearly has no shame. Honestly.

‘’No. Just tell me which one is the truth.’’ Isak doesn’t sound convinced. And I am now laughing. Because he looks so uncomfortable and, in my head, I am already planning another exercise we could do where I would have Isak spilling embarrassing truths faster than he could stop himself. I am a genius. I wasn’t going to come back here. I wasn’t. but somehow this is much more fun than Group Therapy, and Matteo’s fingers are stroking my wrist. Like he want’s to hold my hand but doesn’t know if he is allowed. If I would let him. When the truth is I would let him do anything to me. My little ray of sunshine. My baby. The love of my fucking life. Bigger and better and definitely much more real than Theo James. Seriously.

‘’You don’t have a cat. I’ve never seen scratches on your hands. Cats scratch the shit out of your hands. At least mine does.’’ Laura is suspicious staring at Isak. Trying to draw the truth out of him by just staring him down.

‘’And you hate Armie Hammer and said Timothee Chalamet looks like an underfed Piranha. I still haven’t forgiven you for that. So that’s an easy one.’’ She is cocking her head now whilst the room falls silent and Isak squirms in his seat.

‘’You kissed a straight bloke. And it didn’t go well. And I think as our group leader you should indulge us in the rest of that story to …..teach us a lesson. Or something.’’

Yeah. She’s run out of steam and everyone is nodding. Like they are on to him. Like that wasn’t an easy one to figure out.

‘’I didn’t kiss him. HE kissed me, then very swiftly realized that he wasn’t into me. Or boys. End of story. ‘’

The girls are still moaning as I make them all lie on the ground face down as we play ‘Missing Persons’. Then we do ‘Charades for feelings’ and Isak gives in and we watch Philkas kisses on the display screen, and to be honest I think Isak is kind of relieved to not be the centre of attention. He’s cool. Honest. Private. I like him. I see why my Dad likes him. And I might ship them. See? I learnt a load of totally useful stuff today.

 

I’m still smiling as I almost skip down the road to the tram. I have therapy at 6. Matteo has rehearsals with his theatre group. He hugged me good bye.

 

I can still feel his fingers on my wrist. Next time I will be brave. Please let there be a next time. Next time I will hold his hand.

 


	15. Kjærlighet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sterkere er den kjærlighet som vekker av lengsel enn den som holder våken av minner.  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

 

The evening dusk is rolling in across the motorway as the car heads back towards Oslo. The dark green pines along the road blending effortlessly into the asphalt almost blurring Even’s vision into stripes of greeny grey shooting past the car.

It’s been a good day. A reckless day full of ill-advised dietary choices and ridiculous purchases. It’s been brilliant. Really brilliant. To be honest Even feels sick with the amount of pick and mix he has shoved down his throat, especially after the burgers and milkshakes they just had at the roadside MAX burger chain before crossing back over the Norwegian border. It’s called MAX Burgers. They always stop there. It’s the rules. Max had insisted. And Even had just ruffled his hair and said ‘Of course.’. Because there is nothing he wouldn’t do for the little shit who is curled up in a ball next to him, fast asleep with that long fringe of his falling messily over his eyes.

 

The dye is already coming out of his hair, making the strands a mess of black and grey with blondish stripes shining through his sons matted locks. He’s still the most breathtakingly beautiful thing Even has ever seen. He has always been, from that first night when Even brought him home and sat on his own in the student room he had lived in.

He owned an Ikea cot. A kitchenette full of bottles and powders and a bundle of clothes his parents had bought him. And this tiny little thing that he couldn’t take his eyes off.

Even hadn’t slept that first night. Just tossed and turned as the tiny baby snuffled and shuffled in the cot beside him.

 

He knew the rules. He knew not to risk it. But he just couldn’t leave him there. He couldn’t leave that little boy lying there on his own. Max must have been just as scared as Even. Scared and lost and confused and overwhelmed by the world that had changed so drastically around them. He was a Dad. And this was his son. They would now belong together forever and the bare thought of that made Even want to run screaming and shouting home to his parents again so he could pretend he was still an irresponsible child.

 

Instead he had carefully lifted his baby son out of the cot and curled himself into a ball around him. Lain on his side with pillows between his knees and his back against the wall so he wouldn’t roll over on the baby in his arms. They had dozed like that for the first couple of days, living in a haze of sleep deprivation and nappies and trying to figure eachother out.

It had been love at first sight. And life had never been the same again.

 

Even wouldn’t change a thing. Not even the horrendous episodes when life had been hell and he had been terrified that Max would just walk out the door, and never return. They had screamed and shouted and cried and slammed doors in each other’s faces, but they had both stayed. Both silently accepted that they were unfortunately both right where they needed to be. Home. With their family.

Because they are the only family they will ever have. Not that Even hasn’t got the greatest of hopes for his son. He wants him to find someone who will love him as desperately as Even does. Who will hold him and kiss him and rock him to sleep, now that Max has grown up and Even just can’t do that anymore.

He got a hug today though. A hug full of laughter and pity and ridicule, but still. A hug. And he smiles as he looks back in the seat behind them, full of shopping bags and trays of beer and the stupidly oversized box of Kexchoklad.

It’s ridiculous, He knows, but hey. He is desperate. And he is taking desperation to the next level, whatever the cost. He’s got nothing to lose. Zero collateral if it all goes to shit. Except that he will be heartbroken. And sad. And probably ugly-cry into his pillow for a few weeks. It’s nothing he hasn’t done over Isak Valtersen before. It won’t be the first time. Just probably the last.

 

Fuck he doesn’t even want to think about it. Failure is not an option. ‘Own it’, as Max had shouted at him in the sweet store, his pick and mix bag bulging with sugar and e-numbers that normally would have made Even see red. ‘Go big or go home!’ He had shouted back and loaded up another scoop of Bamsemums. Dark chocolate arrak pralines. Limousine marshmallow cars and Ferrari red Racers. Caramel mushrooms. Peps peppermint balls. Salty liquorice nuggets that make your mouth scream and your eyes water. They’re called ‘roar of the Jungle’ for a reason.

His mouth pools with saliva again and he scoops up another sweet from the now almost empty bag resting on his lap. He feels a little bit sick. Dizzy. Tired. Happy.

 

The urge to lift Max out of the car and carry him inside like a baby is tempting, but Even doubts he would even be able to get him out of the seat. He used to love that. Wrapping him up in the duvet and curling in behind him, going to sleep with his son in his arms. The thought that those days are long gone makes him again feel his age. The loneliness creeping in again as he nudges Max’s arm and shouts his name.

‘’We’re home’’ He says as Max huffs and wipes the drool of his chin. Stretches awkwardly in the seat.

‘’I can’t believe I slept all the way.’’ Max slurs out and takes a tentative step out on the drive, whilst Even hands him two shopping bags and motions towards the open front door.

‘’Chop chop. Food for the freezer. And come back out again because I am not carrying all this crap inside myself.’’

‘’Just leave the booze in the car’’ Max shouts from somewhere inside the hallway.

‘’Yeah right, the car window would be smashed in and everything gone before midnight. It’s Saturday night. Partying kids hanging around.’’

Not that they have ever been broken into out here. Or had the car windows smashed, but there are a lot of kids about. Parties. He thinks. There must be. Surely. He ends up carrying it all in himself. Just as expected. Chucking the last of the pallets of beer on the hallway floor and tipping the food bags out on the table. Whist Max is eating sweets and doing something on his phone.

 

‘’Can I take your blood sugar?’’ Even huffs whilst he tries to jam the freezer door shut with his hip. 10 packs of meatballs now squeezed in with another 5 bags of frozen pytt-i-panna. All the Harry-tur staples crossed of the list. Along with a bottle of bourbon and 3 cheeky bottles of red wine.

Max just rolls his eyes and sits down at the table. Grabs the pack from Even’s outstretched hand and tips out a lancet, pricking his finger like a pro, letting Even catch the drop of blood on the testing strip.

‘’Thank you’’ Even whispers.

‘’You worry too much Dad.’’ Max says. ‘’I’m not going to go manic over night just because I have a stomach full of junk food. It just makes me tired, not off my head.’’

‘’I know kiddo.’’ Even smiles. ‘’I just try to keep track. I want to finish this article I am writing for the Norwegian Medical journal, trying to find links between Insulin levels and Mood elevation, combined with normal thyroid function.

‘’Whatever Dad’’ Max mutters. He’s tired. Yawning shamelessly and scratching his head. The way he does when he’s tired and grumpy. ‘’I’m going to bed.’’

‘’Thank you for a great day.’’ Even says. Stepping forwards. Hoping.

‘’It was good, wasn’t it?’’ Max actually looks up. Smiles tentatively. Like he is happy.

It was a good day. Happy.

‘’Can I hug you good night?’’ Even asks. Go big. Or go home.

‘’Dad..’’ He’s at least still smiling. One little step at a time.

‘’I like hugs.’’ Even sulks. Trying. Please.

He gets one. It might be short and awkward but it’s a hug. A second of warmth and love and a clumsy pat on the back, but for Even it’s heavenly.

‘’Love you’’ He whispers.

‘’OK Dad.’’ Max whispers back.

 

**Hi. Just wanted to say hi and hope you had a good day. Even.**

 

He doesn’t quite know why he sent that. But he has had a glass of red wine and can’t find the inspiration to write and is now down to 5 possible addresses for Isak Valtersen after google threw up LinkedIn details and company registrations for two of them. Isak is not a Sanitary-solutions management consultant from Sørænga. Nor is he a Professor of Metaphysics from Røa. Unfortunately. Because Isak Valtersen the Metaphysics dude seems seriously cool, even though he is 74 and bald as a coot.

**Hi. Yes. Thanks. Bye Even.**

The reply shouldn’t make him laugh. But it does actually. He’s still him. Cocky little twat.

 

**I am having a glass of wine. Wasn’t it a gorgeous day?**

**Fuck off Even. What’s a matter? The wife not putting out?**

**You know full well there is no wife. No girlfriend boyfriend dog or ex either.**

**You are a lonely sad man. There are apps to help with that you know.**

**Yeah. My son told me about Grindr. No thanks.**

 

There are no speech bubbles. Whilst Even just stares at his phone and pours another glass of wine.

 

**I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sure Grindr is great if that is your thing but it’s not mine. I work eat sleep and raise my son. That is all I do.**

**Yeah, and stalk me.**

**It’s called Tinder for you straights. You should try it. You might find something else to do.**

 

**I like stalking you.**

He’s not ready to address the other thing. Doesn’t know how to say it without coming off as an idiot.

 

**So, you admit that is what you are doing?**

**I’m only trying to talk to you. Be nice. Have conversation. That is what friends do Isak.**

**We are NOT friends Even.**

**Yes, we are. We have texted back and forth several times now and you have still not blocked me. We are friends.**

**Fuck You.**

**What are you drinking?**

**Shut up arsehole. It’s like we are 16 again and you sound like my Mum.**

**Max and I went to Sweden today and I’m on an Australian Red from Wolf Blass. Shiraz.**

**I went to Jonas BBQ. Tuborg. Happy now?**

**Ecstatic.**

**You didn’t send me any shit today. I was almost disappointed.**

**See? We’re friends. Friends send eachother shit to make eachother happy.**

**Fuck you Even. I’m going to bed. Have a good life.**

**I will happily send you more things. I just don’t have your address. You are safe. For now.**

**Is that a threat?**

**No Isak.** **Do I send it to Kvernstien, Eddaveien, Røaterasse, KajMunksvei eller Mortensrudveien?**

 

There is nothing. And Even takes a gulp of wine thinking maybe he has overstepped the line. Maybe it was just a little too much. Maybe he is actually a little bit frightening now. Stalker.

He waits. Waits until it’s pretty much obvious that there won’t be any more replies from Isak. That he has actually done it. Blocked him.

**I’m sorry. I’m not going to turn up on your doorstep or something. You might have a family that I know nothing about and I don’t want to ruin anything. I just want to be able to talk to you, if you will let me.**

**Good Night Even.**

Thank God. Not blocked.

He brings the phone with him outside and stands in the doorway of the patio door, having a last cigarette. It’s raining heavily now, the air thick with the smells of soil and grass. Rain and air. Thick droplets falling against the wooden planks, splashing water onto the threshold.

The phone remains silent, not unsurprisingly so. Even needs a new tactic. He needs to find some kind of common ground where they can talk. Discuss something mundane enough that it won’t cause them to hurl abuse and behave like children. Again.

The sound of the doorbell makes him jump out of his skin. They aren’t expecting anyone. Nobody ever visits. Unless Max has sleepwalked out of his room and gone outside without him noticing. Sleepwalking can be a side-effect of the medication he takes. Even should have checked on him. He should have kept an eye on his son instead of trying to impress some bloke who obviously has zero interest in him.

His heart is beating far too fast as he yanks the door open to Max’s room, only to find his son fully clothed on the bed with his headphones on. Fast asleep. Snoring with the lights on full as always.

Yet the doorbell rings again.

 

 

 


	16. Kjærlighet Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kjærlighet  
> Sterkere er den kjærlighet som vekker av lengsel enn den som holder våken av minner.  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

 

Even checks himself in the mirror. Runs his hand through his hair. He looks presentable. Ordinary.

 

The door falls open and Even just stares. Because the boy on the doorstep is soaked to the bone in the heavy rain. Water dripping from his nose as he pulls his wet fringe to the side and looks up.

He is carrying a rucksack that hangs heavily on his back. Shoes that slosh slightly when he takes a step to the side. Almost like he is about to run.

 

‘’Is this Max’s house?’’ The boy asks. Blinking water out of his eyes.

 

It takes a few seconds until Even starts to function. Until he reaches out and opens the door wide enough, gesturing for the boy to come inside.

 

‘’Fuck kid, you’re soaked. Come in. Come in. ‘’

‘’Sorry’’ the kid says. ‘’I didn’t have an umbrella and my phone is out of battery. I tried to ring Max earlier but he’s not answering.’’

‘’He’s asleep with his headphones on.’’ Even smiles. Well tries to smile. Because this isn’t Even’s first rodeo and everything about this kid is putting Even on full alert.

 

He sees these kids every week. The rough around the edges kids. The bags full of belongings. Kids who have nothing or everything and throw it away for a few hits. Kids who have fallen on the wrong side of the tracks. Kids with problems larger than Even can comprehend. He shouldn’t judge but if Even could bet, he would bet on runaway. Problem family. The kid is sober. Full of the cold and frozen to the bone but he’s not drunk. No signs of obvious drug related state. Fingers are clean. Clothing looks ok. The bag is too full though. Unless he carries bricks around for fun.

 

‘’Hang your jacket and come in. We can see if Max will wake up if you need to speak to him?’’

 

Friends are good. Max needs friends. Max having a cool nice Dad will improve Max’s chances of keeping said friends. Even if Even is doubtful that this kid is anything but trouble.

 

‘’I’m Even.’’ Even says and reaches out his hand.

‘’Matteo’’ The kid replies and Even almost chokes on his tongue.

‘’You’re Matteo?’’ Even knows all about Matteo. Because Max talked today. Talked like he was possessed. Even knows everything about Matteo. And this is Matteo. Fuck.

 

‘’Yep.’’ Matteo says and folds his arms around himself as he reluctantly follows Even into the kitchen. The kid is shivering like he has a fever. And his shirt is soaked right through.

‘’Kiddo. Look.’’ Even needs to figure this out. But. First things first. ‘’You are fucking frozen. The bathroom is here, get undressed and have a warm shower. When did you last eat?’’

‘’What?’’ The kid says

‘’You need to get dry and warm and you are kind of eyefucking my sandwich on the table. ‘’

 

Even shouldn’t swear. It’s not cool. He’s not cool. But it’s true. Matteo looks paler than pale. And he’s Max’s age, obviously with an age appropriate bottomless pit of a stomach.

‘’Sorry. I don’t want to be any trouble. I was just hoping I could see Max.’’

‘’You won’t see Max when you get pneumonia from sitting around in wet clothes and not eating when you’re obviously starving. I have a kid your age, remember?’’

 

The kid who is apparently the love of my son’s life nods quietly. Water dripping everywhere. And he has holes in his socks. What parent does not at least provide hole- less socks for their kid?

 

‘’Please, just go and have a shower and warm up. There is a green bathrobe on the hook, that’s Max’s. He wont mind if you borrow it. I can find some dry clothes for you if you give me a sec. Do you drink coffee? Tea? Hot chocolate?’’

‘’Water would be fine.’’ The kid says. His eyes flickering like he is actually scared.

‘’Look. I’m a doctor. Deal with people every day. Kids like you. I have a duty of care but I am also bound under strict laws. I am a good listener if there is anything you want to tell me, but I also know to shut up when I need to. You are Max friend, and please feel at home. Just please go and get dry and warm before I have a nervous breakdown from watching you freeze to death.’’

 

Yeah, Even sounds like a twat, but it’s actually a little painful watching the kid shiver like that. His lips a little blue from the cold.

 

‘’You even sound like Max.’’ The kid says. Smiling. And Even can kind of see it. When the kid smiles. That there is something there that Even can relate too. He can kind of see what Max is saying. That this kid smiles and the world is a better brighter place.

‘’Fucking go and get warm kid. Ham, Brunost or Peanut butter on your sandwich? I haven’t got marmalade, even though marmalade and cheese are like my favourite thing on bread. You’re not allergic, are you? To peanuts?’’

 

Even is rambling. Even is being an overbearing overexcited parent. It’s like meeting the son in law. Max’s first boyfriend. Kind of. Be cool Even. Be super cool.

‘’No’’ The kid laughs. ‘’Brunost. Please. Thank you.’’

He’s polite at least. The kid. Even though he leaves a wet trail on the floor as he quietly shuffles out to the bathroom. The lock clicking shut behind him and the water in the shower flipping on after a few minutes.

 

**Isak I am so So sO sorry. I really need your help. Are you still awake?**

**What the fuck Even? What?**

**This kid turned up on my doorstep looking like a drenched rat.**

**NOT. MY. PROBLEM. Good night Even.**

 

**No, I know, but I everything about him screams runaway kid. Kid who lives in the streets. Homeless. Trouble. He’s a student at Nissen and a friend of Max’s. I just want to know if you know him. Is he safe?**

**What do you mean is he safe?**

**Is he a one of these kids that are in trouble all the time?**

**Like your kid Even?**

 

Ouch. That hurt. Yes. Even is being a judgemental prick.

 

**I just need to know if he will rob me blind as we sleep or if I should hug the shit out of the kid and feed him sandwiches?**

 

**Even. Give the kid a hug and feed him sandwiches.**

**You don’t even know who this kid is Isak!**

**I am a teacher and I am bound by privacy laws. I can’t tell you anything.**

**His name is Matteo. Just tell me if I should be worried.**

The phone is quiet. Too quiet. And the shower isn’t running anymore.

 

**Please Isak.**

 

**Matteo is an amazing kid and he adores your son. Please feed him sandwiches and let him stay if he needs to. Now go look after him and then go to bed and leave me the fuck alone. I was asleep. Seriously Even, have you got no boundaries?**

**Thank you thank you thank you.**

**Oh, for fucks sake Even, what do I need to do to get rid of you?**

**That hurt Isak. Why do you have to be such a prick all the time?**

**Because you wind me up and drive me crazy! Arsehole!**

 

Even is cutting the bread. Thick angry slices chopping the life out of the loaf. Buttering the poor slices until they look like shit. Slapping uneven slices of brunost on top and slamming the plate down as the microwave pings in the corner.

‘’Sorry’’ The kid says in the doorway. Hair combed back and the bathrobe tight around his waist.

‘’Not your fault kiddo.’’ Even sighs. ‘’I’m just having a chat with a friend who is being an idiot. Have a seat. I made you a hot chocolate. It’s carob powder, so low Gi, but it tastes like the real thing.’’

 

Matteo doesn’t look convinced but at least he takes the cup from Even’s hand, sitting down on the chair at the table. Politely picking one of the crooked slices off the plate and taking a bite.

‘’I don’t know you Matteo, but I know Max likes you. At the same time, I have to be honest with you, because I see kids like you every day, and everything about this screams trouble in my face. Do you understand what I am saying?’’

‘’No?’’ Matteo is doing that scared face again. Like I am being a complete arse.

‘’What’s in the bag kid? Because that bag has ‘runaway’ written all over it. ‘’

‘’I’ve got nowhere to runaway from.’’ Matteo sighs. ‘’Look. If you have a problem with me being Max friend then that’s seriously not cool. He’s amazing and he makes me laugh and I just wanted to check on him. That he’s OK. I can leave as soon as I’ve seen him.’’

‘’I have no problem with you being Max’s friend. Max needs all the friends he can get and from what I understand he thinks you are pretty awesome too.’’

 

Yeah, the sun that is called Matteo is out again. Smiling all adorably under his wet fringe that has now fallen back over his face.

‘’Then what is the problem?’’

‘’Where do you live Matteo?’’ I try to sound kind. Supportive. Because I know this stuff.

‘’I have been in foster care since I was 13. I currently live at a halfway house for kids who are too old to be placed. I’ll be 18 in 4 months and then I get kicked out.’’ Matteo takes another bite of the sandwich. Licking his finger to remove a stray blob of butter. Whilst Even feels like a complete knob.

‘’Which one?’’ he almost whispers.

‘’Tøyenhagen’’ Matteo replies, almost like he feels relieved.

‘’Fuck’’ I blurt out.

‘’Yeah’’ Matteo sighs.

 

Even knows it well, one of the council run places where ex-cons are mixed up with streetwise kids and mental health issues are conveniently ignored until the kids turn 18 and are shoved off with a piece of paper in their hand to go live their life.

‘’I’ve run some of the clinics there.’’ Even says quietly. ‘’I know the place well. I volounteer for a group of medics who do street clinics and self care work shops.’’

Matteo just chews. Fiddles with the crust on the plate.

‘’Did anything happen today?’’ Even asks quietly. He’s dealt with the aftermath of some serious altercations between the kids in those half way homes. If it was up to him some of the places needs shutting down. Whilst others are run well and seem to change people’s lives. If it had been up to Even, kids like Matteo, should never have been placed anywhere near the Tøyenhagen home. Fucking scary shithole.

 

‘’Some kid broke into my locker again. I mean I only keep clothes and my chargers in there, and now I am a hoodie short and have no leads to for my laptop.’’ Matteo chews furiously. ‘’I’m not trying to get sympathy or nothing, but I have to carry around anything valuable otherwise it just goes missing. Not that I blame those guys, because I’m fucking lucky in many ways whilst some of them have nothing. I just hate staying there. It’s never quiet and people screaming all night long. I sometimes go and stay with my friend Hanna, but she needs to study and her parents are going mental at me always being there. ‘’

He takes a deep breath, not looking up. Like he said too much and now regrets even opening his mouth.

‘’What are you doing when you turn 18?’’ Even asks quietly.

‘’No idea. I will get a grant for rent, but I won’t be able to afford something on my own. I have been looking for ads for flat shares, but haven’t found anything yet. I have a job a few afternoons per week but it’s all cash in hand. I have nothing to prove an income, and references from Social services aren’t exactly attractive when you are trying to get into a decent collective. ‘’

‘’You are the same age as Max then?’’ Even tries. Digging carefully.

‘’Yeah, I’m a year behind. But my grades are decent. I’m not a total fuck up. ‘’

‘’You sound pretty awesome to me. Not a fuck up.’’

‘’Thanks’’ Matteo replies and drains his cup. ‘’Do you think I could go see Max for a while?’’

The kid looks drained. Exhausted. In need of a hug.

‘’Go’’ Even waves his hand. ‘’And kiddo?’’

‘’Yeah?’’

‘’I’ll leave a load of bedding by Max door. Stay. The sofa is pretty comfy or Max has one of those oversized bean bags in his room that makes a decent bed. Don’t go back out in this weather. I’m sure Max won’t mind having you here. And we do Waffles on a Sunday morning for breakfast. It’s tradition. They’re wholemeal but still really tasty.’’

 

Shut your mouth Even, he thinks to himself because the kid now looks pained. Like he needs to go hide in a corner and escape from the embarrassing Dad talk.

 

‘’Max room is the one off the living room to the left.’’ Even says and nods towards the hallway.

‘’Thanks.’’ The kid says. And if Even looked carefully he would see Matteo trying to swallow down a sob. Because nobody ever asks him to stay. Not even Hanna. He knows why, and he has kind of overstayed his welcome over the years and having an extra human in a household eating all your food and monopolizing your daughters valuable study time is not cool. Hanna’s Dad has reminded him quite a few times now. He will have to be careful here. Not be selfish. Be adult. Think before he acts. He should go and let Max sleep. He should take the bus back to where he belongs and stop daydreaming about a life that is not his. He should just grow the hell up.

 Instead he walks down the hall to the room that still has Max's name childishly printed on the door.

 

**You are a fucking idiot who I have spent my whole life trying to forget and you just won't leave me alone. I hate you and I hate what we did and I hate that you are still here.**

**Why are you here?**

**I fucking hate you.**

**I hate everything.**

**I’m going to block you now you fucking idiot.**

**I’m so fucking drunk.**

**TUBOFgvg you arsehole.**

 

Even would have laughed if it wasn’t for the fact that he knows exactly how Isak feels. Trying to numb out reality by drinking like a fucking teenager and ending up sobbing your heart out in his pillow. Or throwing up in the bathroom. Isak could never handle his alcohol.

 

**Isak, I’m trying to make it right. I am here for you if you ever want to shout at me. Or talk. You can hurl abuse at me all you like, I will still be here if you need me.**

**I don’f fxing need you Evenr**

**Yes, you do.**

**Need yo like f hole in my head**

**Go and drink some water. If I was there I would make you throw up the last couple of tins. Please just drink some water and go lie down and get some rest.**

**You’re not herr.**

**Here.**

**You’re not here. Can’t make me do anything**

**If I was there I would give you a hug. That’s all. Stroke your hair whilst you fell asleep. I did that once, remember?**

**Dick.**

**Yeah. I know.**

 

Even sits in the dark and waits for the reply that doesn’t appear. He drains the last of his glass of wine and starts to switch of the lights.

The room down the hall is quiet so he assumes all is well. They’re almost adult boys. And it’s not like they are going to get eachother pregnant. Or something.

Whatever.

He hobbles out of his jeans and sits down on the toilet whilst he brushes his teeth with his phone still in his hand. Hoping. Just a small good night would settle him down. He would even settle for another round of abuse if that is what Isak can offer. Anything.

 

His screen lights up and Even almost chokes on his toothbrush.

 

Because right there in front of him is a blurry picture of a man’s genitals. Sent from Isak. At 22.03. To him.

 

Well he supposes he deserves it. He’s a dick. And Isak just sent him a dick-pic. Yeah. He’s read up on Grindr.

At least Isak is still alive and hasn’t choked on his own vomit. And it’s a nice dick. Even can get on board with that.

 

He spits out the toothpaste in the sink and rinses his mouth out.

 

He’s upping his game tomorrow. This shit is about to get real.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

I


	17. Sødme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Det første møtes sødme,  
> det er som sang i skogen,  
> det er som sang på vågen,  
> i solens siste rødme.  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

 

I’ve always had really vivid dreams, which I think kind of goes hand in hand with the rest of my brain's inability to be remotely normal. Normal people don’t have nightmares to the point that they throw themselves out of their beds or try to climb out windows in the middle of the night. Yeah. I’ve done that. Not just once. But the one I am having now is seriously fucked up.

Because there is someone lying in my bed snoring into my back. Which is crazy because this is obviously a dream and I still haven’t woken up. Despite kicking at the leg that is resting against my calf.

So, I have decided that I have probably died in my sleep and this is some kind of fucked up idea of heaven where my room still looks like shit, my sheets still smell of sweat and spunk and there is still someone curled up against me in my bed. Who is very much alive because he is making these weird sounds and I am not sure if I should do some kind of ninja commando move and headbutt him whilst I give him a swift kick in the nuts to set him flying across the room, his body bouncing off the wall opposite whilst I pose like an action man doll and shout abuse at him.

 

Because It’s a him. Hairy legs and there are definitely no boobs. And I am still too fucking chicken to turn around.

Unless it’s Dad. But it’s not. He doesn’t smell like Dad. And Dad would have sunk pretty fucking low if he got so bad that he needed to come and sleep with me. Unless.

 

He was fine last night? Wasn’t he?

 

I’ll have to turn around. Because I mean it’s my Dad. And My Dad is so messed up right now that it’s not even funny. Well it is. Funny. Because Dad is crushing on Isak like a teenager and he kept talking about him and I kept having to tell him shit about Matteo just to give myself a break from the bloody Isak-love-fest Dad has going on. Whilst Isak is apparently treating him like he is the scum of the earth. I will need to have words with Isak. Or push him into a virtual corner at Queer Nissen with my epic round of Truth or Dare, AnxiousYouth self-help group style.

The most fucked up thing of this dream I am having is that I have completely turned around whilst my head is churning on about Isak and Dad and I am now facing the other way and have a mouthful of hair and a face pressed against my chest. My naked chest.

Because I do that as well when I am sleeping. I get hot and undress myself. I did it once on a school trip, in the bottom bunk in front of everyone. Woke up naked with a load of idiot kids laughing and pointing, all dressed in their fucking childish cartoon pyjamas. I hate pyjamas. Bloody restrictive tight fucking things.

And If I am not already dead I am about to die now. Because I am obviously lying in my bed. Doh. AND this, this human in my arms is not my Dad. THANK GOD. Because that would have been FUCKING awkward. Or maybe less awkward than this. Oh fuck. Hell.

What the arse am I going to do now?

I am lying in my bed. With Matteo. Matteo who is wearing one of my t-shirts. He must have just picked it off the floor, the fuck do I know? And underpants. Not boxers like I do. I hate anything tight. ‘Free the balls’ Dad always said and bought us these multipacks of cheap cotton boxers from Rema. Not like the other kids who wore these cotton ball tight things that made my throat restrict at the bare thought of squeezing into something like that. I hate things tight around my waist. Apart from skinny jeans that surprisingly are OK. I don’t know why, but they are comfy and…

‘’Please don’t freak out on me.’’ He whispers.

I hadn’t even noticed that he had moved. That face is too close and his nose is gently pressing against mine.

‘’Not freaking out’’ I stutter.

‘’Liar’’ He whispers back and strokes his hand against my chest. Feeling for my heart. ‘’Your heart is racing. It’s just me. I’m sorry I tried to wake you up last night but you were kind of dead asleep. ‘’

I try to swallow but my throat is bone dry. He’s right. I am kind of freaking out. Well who am I kidding, I can barely breathe and Matteo is doing those little shushing sounds that I fucking love and, in a way, I want to burst into tears but that would like be totally uncool and what the hell is he doing here and why the fuck am I freaking out when this is like the hottest thing that has ever happened to me. I have the man of my wildest dirtiest smuttiest fantasies right here in my snake pit of a bed and he is half naked and rubbing his nose against mine and whispering rubbish into my mouth and why the hell am I trying to scramble into the wall and get away from him?

‘’Pumpkin. You have to breathe. Shush. It’s just me. You are safe with me. I won’t do anything to you. I just want to be here. I only came here because I fucking missed you. I hadn’t seen you for days and that doesn’t work for me anymore. I need to see you now and then so I know you are ok. So we are OK. Because I won’t let you flip me off pumpkin. You are my baby, and I’m kind of hung up on the idea of us being friends.’’

‘’Friends?’’ I croak out. Yeah ‘No-filter-Max’, my charming alter ego, is apparently not freaking out. ‘’I don’t want to be friends’’.

‘’Neither do I’’ Matteo laughs and then he kisses my forehead.

 

Oh fuck. His lips are against my skin. And If I wasn’t freaking out before I kind of am now. Squirming and panting like a baby.

 

‘’Ok Ok. Let’s try this.’’ Matteo scrambles off the bed and falls clumsily onto the beanbag that is on the floor right next to my bed. It wasn’t there last night. Neither was the bedding strewn across the floor. He is sitting bolt upright on the beanbag, leaning towards me with his arms around his knees. Waiting.

 

Whilst I sit up awkwardly on the bed whining like an injured animal.

 

‘’I wont touch you unless you want me to. Just breathe Pumpkin. Big slow breaths. Breathe with me.’’

I think I try to speak, but I am now half leaning over the edge of the bed and reaching out for him. Kind of wafting my hand in the air. I don’t know what the fuck I am doing. I don’t know what the hell is going on.

‘’Hug’’ I say. That is apparently all I need to say and he jumps back into my arms. Straddling me like an over friendly monkey with his legs around my waist and his face in my neck and he is fucking squeezing the life out of me.

 

‘’I love you’’ He whispers. ‘’Please just let me love you Pumpkin.’’

 

I need to say something back. I mean. Wow.

He has just said that. He did that.

Whilst I am now being a total twat staying silent when I should be screaming it from the top of my lungs. Shouting it into his mouth and smashing my lips against his.

Instead I am stroking his back. Long firm strokes up and down his spine. Letting my fingertip find softness at the bottom of the hem. Tentatively just pressing the pad of my index finger against the warmth. Little slides of my finger tracing the shapes of his vertebrae, hard angles resting under membranes and skin.

 

‘’Sorry’’ he whispers. His body slack against mine.

‘’Sweet’’ I say. THE FUCK MAX? I have watched every high school romcom. Every romantic shitfest of high school romance shite. I know what to say to make this right and that is all I can squeeze out?

‘’Sweet?’’ He splutters. Yeah. Now he is laughing at me.

‘’Look Matteo’’.. My voice falters. I should just go throw myself head first out the window. Seriously.

 

‘’I get it. You just don’t feel that way about me and that is fine. It’ll be OK. I will survive.’’ He sounds crushed. Like he is trying to sound all brave and OK, but he obviously isn’t.

 

‘’No, no no. No. Matteo. Baby.’’ Fuck I just called him baby! And I am still alive!

 

He doesn’t say anything. And I go back to stroking his back. Nuzzling my face into his hair. Holding him as tight as he is holding me. Because he hasn’t let go. Not an inch. He is still holding onto me like I am saving him from drowning. And I fucking know that feeling. With every second that passes he is dying a little inside and then in a minute he will let go and walk out of my life still wearing my t-shirt and we will never speak again and every night he will fall asleep in his bed holding onto my t-shirt that he will never wash again because it smells of me and then…

‘’I love you too’’ I say. Very quietly. Softly. Like I am not really sure the words are actually coming out of my mouth. Because I can’t let him live like that. I can’t make myself live like this. In fear, when he is right here.

 

The sound he makes is the cutest thing I have ever heard. Like my stomach goes all warm and his arms tighten around me. It’s like a low whine but like he has been holding his breath and finally allowing himself to breathe.

‘’I love you’’ I say. Then I say it again. Again, and again. I keep whispering it until he is laughing into my chest. His cheek resting against my shoulder and his eyes closed into my neck. I can feel his eyelashes flutter against my skin. Little butterfly kisses against my goose bumps. I’m running all hot and cold. Exhausted and exhilarated at the same time.

‘’Lie down with me, like we did before’’ I choke out. Because I want to. I need to. Start this again. Go back to the start before I messed it all up. Pretend that this is just a dream where I wake up with this ridiculous mess of a boy in my arms.

 

He does. Of course, he does. Because he would do anything for me.

Like I would do anything for him.

 

Because I think, and it’s a frightening thing to realize. I think he is a bit like me. I think he is lost and scared. I think he is fucking tired. He is tired of running and hiding behind this happy smile when I am kind of waking up to the fact that the real Matteo might someone completely different from the smiling boy who eats boller whilst spitting crumbs all over the table. The confident little fucker who laughs at the smallest thing. The one everyone loves. Because I see that at school, how people love him. He has all these friends. Yet he is clinging to me like he is all alone in the world.

‘’Baby’’ I say again as he comes to rest on my chest and I sweep the duvet around us. My T-shirt against his skin on top of mine. His hair against my lips as I kiss his head.

‘’Max’’ He says.

He’s never said my name before.

‘’Yeah?’’

‘’Sorry I scared you.’’

‘’You didn’t scare me. I just freaked out a little. I’m Ok now. Thanks.’’

I have a million thoughts in my head fighting for place and time and a hundred words on my lips I want to shout at him. I want to tell him that I am so stupidly in awe of the fact that he came here. That he just got undressed and crawled into bed with me. Just like that. I want to tell him how scared I am. I want to tell him about the thoughts in my head. I want to tell him about the fears that crawl into my head at night when I can’t sleep. The ghosts of places where my mind just wouldn’t follow the rules. The fear that I wont cope. That I can’t be what he needs. The fucking fear that I will fuck this up before it has even started.

‘’I was scared last night. Scared and angry and sad, and all I could think of that if I could just see you I would feel a little happier. That the world would be such a fucking shit hole if I could just remind myself that you were still here. ‘’ He stops and kisses my shoulder. Just nuzzles around in my neck. His nose stroking against me causing ripples in my chest. Warmth rolling in waves over me like phantom caresses that just make me smile. I can’t help it. He’s here.

‘’How the hell did you know where I lived?’’ I haven’t even thought about that.

‘’Googled your Dad. He’s a bit famous your Pop. He’s one of the original StreetMedics. And he is on the board of the Night Ravens who are like awesome people. On top of that he got some bravery award for saving the life of some street gang member?’’

Oh. OK. Yeah. I haven’t thought about that. He has always done all these things. Been on committees. Started these crazy ideas. Gone off on night walks with teams of medics to check oh people who have nowhere to go. People who don’t belong and might not be brave enough to go to hospital when they should do.’ If people are in pain and can’t go to a doctor, then the doctor should come to them’, Dad had said and kissed me goodnight.

 

‘’My Dad is cool’’. Well that’s an understatement, but hey, it’s my Dad.

‘’He grilled me last night. I think he thought I was some street kid who was going to rob him or something.’’ Matteo giggles into my collarbone.

‘’Sorry’’ I whisper. I am smiling though. I can almost picture it. My Dad holding court in his chair whilst Matteo would have squirmed in the doorway.

‘’Nah, he’s really nice. Gave me a sandwich and some kind of hot shit in a cup that tasted like cardboard. What was that?’’

‘’Carob’’ I laugh. ‘’It’s good for you apparently.’’

‘’I’ll get you some hot chocolate powder next time. We have sachets at the Pizza place I deliver for. My boss is cool, let’s me have a few at the end of my shift.’’

‘’Thank you’’ I whisper.

We lie there, in the warmth under the duvet. Me in my birthday suit. Him in my clothes. My fingers combing through his hair. His fingers dancing on my chest. It hasn’t even occurred to me that I am fucking naked. I don’t care. There is nothing Matteo hasn’t seen now. There is no little part of me he hasn’t just smiled at and hugged better.

 

I’m me. Own it.

 

‘’Max?’’

‘’What happened to Pumpkin?’’ I tease.

He smiles. He smiles like the world is his.

‘’You will always be my Pumpkin. But sometimes we need to be serious.’’

‘’And you are being serious?’’

Yeah. I’m being a twat. And Matteo is rolling his eyes at me, whilst I stroke a strand of hair out of his eyes. He’s stunning. Pools of blue and a face full of smiles and little dimples and crinkles forming around his eyes.

 

‘’Are you ready?’’ He asks. Whilst I look as confused as I am.

‘’Ready for what?’’ I say. I’m not ready for anything. I fully intend to lie here for the rest of my life with Matteo pressed against my chest. I couldn’t think of anything better to do even if I tried. Someone would have to pay me to leave my bed right now, and I’m not sure there is an amount large enough to tempt me.

‘’For your first kiss?’’ He says and there isn’t a smile on his face. Like he is a little bit terrified that I will say no. Like I would. He’s Matteo. And I’m already leaning in towards his face.

‘’Please’’ I moan as his lips touch the edge of my mouth. Softly nibbling at the curve of my bottom lip. Tasting me.

 

It’s like nothing. Like everything. Like the world just stands still as I press against him. Bite my mouth over his. Push. Pull with his skin between my lips.

He is pouting for more, his eyes closed and his eyelashes flickering in the stripes of sunlight dancing over his face.

And I kiss him. I kiss his lips. His mouth. His cheeks. His nose. His face and the freckles. I kiss his broken skin. I kiss the scars from spots that are no longer there. I kiss him until I can’t kiss him any more.


	18. Forstand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gud hjelpe den som tapte alt,  
> men ikke sin forstand.  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

Shame doesn’t even start to describe it. It’s overwhelming, the anger and fear and fucked up stupidity and the regret. What the hell has he gone and done?

Isak can’t even remember what idiotic thoughts were dancing around in his head last night, apart from the evidence of too many bottles of Tuborg festering on his coffee table and the damn broken TV still sitting on the wall laughing at him.

He makes himself look at the picture again. Then deletes it in a fit of red faced shame. Wills himself to sink right through the floor and disappear.

These are the things he reads about in the trashy newspapers in the teacher’s lounge. Teacher expelled and jailed for indecent behaviour. Not that it is that bad.

 

Fuck. It **_is_** that bad. He might not have sent a dick-pic to a student, which would have been so inappropriate and wrong that Isak doesn’t even want to think about it, but, sending a dick-pic in a stupid drunken stupor to the Father of one of his Mentor-students will be a rock-solid ground for dismissal. All Even has to do is report it and Isak will be down at the job-centre by Monday morning looking for a job stacking shelves at Ikea.

Not that there is anything wrong with working at Ikea, but fuck. FUCK FUCK FUCK.

Not only will he be a jobless wanker by Monday, he will also have a mark against his name and will never work with children again. Probably. Jonas will disown him. Well Jonas will disown him anyway as soon as Isak tells him what he has done, because Jonas is still his bro, and has a canny ability of making Isak talk, and by the look of the state Isak is in right now Isak will talk the minute Jonas takes one judgemental eyebrow-arched look at him.

The worst thing is that Isak will have to go and eat fucking humble pie and apologize to Even.

Because he doesn’t even want to risk the consequences of not trying to erase this massive judgmental mishap from the world events of Isak Valtersen. If there is any chance in hell that Even will forgive and forget, because with their history, Even has probably posted the picture on Facebook and tagged him for the world to see. Unless he is still busy writing the Letter of Grievance to the headteacher at Hartvig Nissen’s VGS. Isak’s soon to be former place of employment.

 

He doesn’t understand himself anymore. He doesn’t think he even wants to understand. Fucking hell.

 

The ping of his phone makes him half jump off the edge of the sofa where he is conveniently perched, with his head in his hands.

He feels sick to his stomach, nauseous and tired. Sick. Hungry? Nope. He could perhaps cope with some chamomile tea. He needs to go back to bed, because it’s fucking Sunday morning, and Isak Valtersen should be having a well-deserved lie in. Instead he is shivering with fear on his sofa because there is a message on his phone and he made the mistake of catching the name flashing before the screen went black.

Even has sent him a message and all Isak wants is to curl into a ball and scream.

Not that Even can’t be kind and understanding. He was. Once.

 

He still has the red russ trousers somewhere in his loft, the ones with the patches and VALTERSEN sown on in white letters down the left leg. Rainbow pins and pride patches sown on the sleeves. He had **_LOVE WINS, ALWAYS_** written on the back. Pathetic, thinking back at it. He knew nothing about love. And he never won anything.

It had been the last party. The weekend after graduation before they were all to go their separate ways. Before everything was over and they would step up in the world. Take their places as adults. Jonas already had his life mapped out, he had made it into the Drama course at Bergen and had already secured a student flat. Isak had been waiting for his place, but with his grades he was pretty certain he would be following Jonas to Bergen in September. He still thought Medical school maybe should have been his first choice, but he knew himself, and this was his choice. Not the choice of his parents who were pushing for a degree in Civil Engineering. A well-rounded education with prospects. Not the choice of the advisor at school who was whinging that Isak was throwing his excellent grades away on a mediocre career.

 

Isak wanted to teach. Isak was born to teach. He loves teaching.

 

The party had been at someone’s beach house, drunk kids messing around in the water, rows of disposable BBQ’s and more mosquitoes than were probably necessary for June. It had been good. Good natured and happy and some girl had clung to his back most of the evening. Not that he minded. He had been happily drunk. Sloppy.

And Even had been there, of course. Hanging off that Sonja’s arm, laughing at whatever the crap she spilled out of her mouth. Staring at Isak like he always did whilst Isak blew kisses to the girls in the water and stumbled off to find somewhere to take a piss and lie down in the grass for a while.

He was drunk. Stupidly drunk.

He doesn’t remember how they ended up on that porch. How he ended up leaning on Even’s shoulder on a porch to an abandoned beach hut at Huk.

The evening had just kind of happened around them, and Isak’s memories had been kind of shady from the start. He remembers lying in the grass feeling incredibly sorry for himself. How he had lived through the 3 years of VGS, the 3 years of school that are supposed to change your life. Where you find yourself and establish who you actually are. Well Isak had been disappointed. Because even though he had fucking aced at establishing himself and had kind of figured out who he was, he had accomplished absolutely nothing.

Wasn’t that the point of all this being a russ? To hook up and get kissed and get laid. To get your dick sucked behind the tall pines down by the shore? Over there in the distance?

 

He had shouted loudly about it. Told his imaginary friends about his failures as a human being. How it was all good and well that he was out and proud and liked cock. Less cool when there was nobody else who liked cock as much as him that would kiss him and give him, well, he can’t remember which phrase he had used. But he remembers Even’s laughter next to him in the grass. Even’s hands pulling him up and telling him there was somewhere they needed to be. This place he wanted to show him.

But he does remember the kissing. The tentative slow movements. Trying eachother out. Even’s arms around his neck.

He remembers the kissing alright. He remembers the little moans. The sloppy tongue flicking against his own. The desperation.

He remembers climbing onto Even’s lap. He remembers being fucking gone.

There are some glimmers. Some vague pictures that pop up in his head. Lying on his side on the hard flooring with Even’s jacket under their heads. Lazy kisses and laughter.

He doesn’t remember them talking. Just kissing.

He remembers fingers stroking his hair. He remembers someone talking to him when he was too far gone to care.

He remembers falling asleep feeling loved. Safe.

He remembers thinking that this was probably what people thought about when they talked about love. Of happiness and peace and joy and all that shit.

 

He also remembers waking up in Eva’s car, curled up on the back seat with a hoodie he didn’t recognize draped over his shoulder. There was a piece of paper in his hand with a phone number on it.

Whilst Even must have run off in shame and horror at finding himself anywhere near Isak. Fuck him.

The number remained unused. He had luckily had some backbone and pride in himself and never texted him. Just crumpled the number up and shoved it in his pocket.

 

His first kiss. He had been too drunk to really take it all in. But he knew it had been spectacular, because the second time he hooked up with someone it was pretty awful. Awkward and clumsy. The third time a bit better. Fourth was nothing to write home about. He might have been drunk but he never got that feeling again. The flutters in his stomach and the primal need in his guts that if he didn’t keep clinging to the person in his arms he would probably die.

 

Yet it had been nothing to Even. He had got his final knot in his freaking Russe rope of shame. Even had kissed a boy and probably boasted high and low about it whilst his friends had cackled with laughter at the pathetic gay boy finally getting some.

He had never worn his russ overalls again. He bets, if he went up in his storage loft and looked, the piece of paper would still be stuffed in his pocket. Dirt stains on the knees. Sand in the folds around his ankles. A time capsule of a misspent youth if anything.

He never saw Even again. In September he moved to Bergen. And life was never the same.

 

**Good Morning Isak! I hope your head is ok? Lovely photographic skills. I can recommend some filters that would improve the definition. And thank you for your help last night, I have two very happy boys on my sofa eating waffles and watching something that involves zombies. Matteo is a nice kid. He also has a job delivering pizzas for a place called Little Italy on Slemdalsveien. That was interesting to hear.**

 

TO: [Matteo.FlorenziDruckheim@nissenmail.no](mailto:Matteo.FlorenziDruckheim@nissenmail.no)

FROM [Isak.Valtersen@HartvigNissen.edu.gov.no](mailto:Isak.Valtersen@HartvigNissen.edu.gov.no)

RE: Privacy

Hi Matteo. I know this is an awkward request but can I ask that you please protect my privacy, same as I would protect yours? I hope you are having an awesome weekend.

Isak.

 

TO: [Isak.Valtersen@HartvigNissen.edu.gov.no](mailto:Isak.Valtersen@HartvigNissen.edu.gov.no)

FROM [Matteo.FlorenziDruckheim@nissenmail.no](mailto:Matteo.FlorenziDruckheim@nissenmail.no)

RE: Privacy

Dude. WTF? I have no idea what you are on about. See you for QNissen on Tuesday. Matteo

 

**Even, can we talk? When you have a minute? I understand my behaviour was completely out of line last night and I just want to apologize and make sure we are fine. Can we please forget that yesterday happened? Delete and forget?**

 

 

**We seem to be doing a lot of that lately, apologizing. Nothing to apologise for. You were drunk, and you made me laugh. It’s fine Isak. That’s what friends do.**

Isak should be replying with his usual crap. It’s just he can’t bring himself to do it. He just sits there. Staring at the phone like it’s supposed to tell him what to do. He doesn’t know why he did it. Just that he was angry and it had probably seemed like a good idea at the time. Something to make Even feel small and pathetic. Unsure of himself. Embarrassed.

 

Instead he picks up the phone when it rings, not even realizing who is calling until the voice rings out in his ear.

‘’Isak?’’

 

It’s Even. Of course, it is.

‘’Hi’’ He croaks out. Pathetic Isak. Fucking Pathetic.

‘’How’s your head?’’

‘’You’re the doctor. You can picture the state of me.’’

 

Isak doesn’t know why he is being honest. Why his heart is beating so fast in his chest.

 

‘’Take two Paracet and have a litre of water and go back to sleep for an hour. Top tip from Doctor Even’’

 

Isak smiles. He doesn’t want to but Even is a funny bastard. Sometimes. When he’s not an arse.

 

‘’Yeah.’’ He says. Good conversation.

‘’Good conversation’’ Even smiles. He can hear it in his voice. The laughter.

‘’Look. Even. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to send that, I don’t know what I was thinking.’’

‘’I think you did Isak, but I told you, it’s fine.’’

‘’Can you please delete the picture, and kind of forget that last night ever happened?’’

‘’It’s a nice picture.’’

 

Even is fucking taunting him. He is enjoying this. A lot.

 

‘’Even’’ Isak whines.

‘’Isak’’ Even states. Firmly.

And Isak feels very small. Tiny. Childish and stupid.

‘’Isak, I start work at 8 tonight. I’m at the Storgata Emergency room this week, down town. You know the one. Just come down there and ask for me at reception, and I will hand you my phone. You can delete the picture and check my photo albums and make sure it is gone. Would that make you feel better?’’

‘’Maybe?’’ Isak is hopeless. Isak needs to stop stalling and start talking. ‘’Thank you. If it’s OK with you that would make me feel better.’’

‘’Good’’ Even says. ‘’So…. I will see you tonight? Any time after 8. As long as I am not busy I will come out and see you straight away, if I’m busy just take a seat and I will be with you as soon as I can. OK?’’

‘’Thank you’’ Isak whispers. He is relieved. He hopes. Even though his gut feeling is punching him in the stomach screaming that he shouldn’t fucking trust Even Bech Næsheim. That he can’t be relied on. That Even Bech Næsheim is a lying backstabbing homophobic bastard whose life should have gone to shit.

Karma is a beautiful thing. Fuck Karma.


	19. Fred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fred  
> Fred er ei det beste, men at man noe vil.  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggerwarnings for this chapter: Mention and some description of selfharm by a side character. As soon as ''Astrid'' Is mentioned skip to the ''Hello'' further down the text if this will affect or upset you. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for all the great comments, I appreciate and love that you take the time to talk to me and tell me what you think. It's awesome. Thank you. xxx

Even’s head has been spinning most of the day. He’s seeing Isak tonight, and somehow his heart has been racing all afternoon when he should have been in bed having a nap making sure he is bright and clearheaded for his shift overnight.

Instead he sat on the sofa until far too late with the boys watching crap and laughing at their juvenile banter. He just couldn’t leave. Couldn’t make himself snap out of the idea of this being his life. Having these two little rays of sunshine in his living room, laughter filling the air and his son smiling like he had no worries in the world.

Max probably needed to go and do some homework. Matteo should probably get on with his life. But it had been perfect. Calm and relaxed and happy. And Even had basked in it.

Listened to stories from school. Laughed at the descriptions of people he had no idea who they were. His face going bright red when Matteo innocently mentioned that he usually delivered pizza to one of their teachers on a Saturday night. Pizza for one. Kebab pizza with extra garlic sauce and a bottle of Fanta. Even didn’t even have to ask who that was. The constipated laughter coming from Max making it perfectly clear that he now had an address for Mr Isak Valtersen. The right one.

It’s fate. He had always known it was.

 

He stumbles into the kitchen just before seven to grab his flask of coffee for the ride into town, blinking awkwardly into the light from the table. He should have gotten up earlier, but whatever. He has time. And as usual he will be hobbling into his scrubs last minute at 8.01 ready to take over from whoever his handover person is today.

‘’Hi kiddo.’’ He says. To Matteo who is sitting in the at the kitchen table with books and papers spread over the table.

‘’Sorry, I’ll leave in a while, I just need to finish my homework whilst I have a charger. The battery is shit and It will probably be dead by the time I get home.’’

The kid needs to stop apologizing. Seriously.

‘’You can stay however long you want. Max will be on his own tonight, I’m working, so I don’t mind if you want to stay and keep him company.’’

He doesn’t. Honestly. It would be good for Max not to spend so much time on his own.

‘’He’s having a nap. I think I have exhausted him today. I talk too much.’’ Matteo is muttering. His voice almost sad. Pained.

‘’He likes you. So do I.’’ Even flicks the main lights on and Matteo blinks awkwardly.

‘’Have you eaten?’’ The kitchen is spotless. They obviously haven’t eaten a thing.

‘’I made pasta, I have tried to clean up everything but I don’t know if I have put it back in the right place. Sorry.’’

‘’Stop apologizing.’’ Even sighs. ‘’You are welcome here. Mi casa su casa. Just feel at home Matteo.’’

‘’I don’t live here. I don’t want you to think I am taking advantage.’’ Matteo looks scared. Honestly. The little shit.

 

He really needs to go, but the kid, this kid here. Even can’t help it.

 

‘’Can you do me a favour?’’ Even means it. It would make him feel a million times better if Matteo just could do as he asks.

‘’Sure’’ the kid says, and Even sinks down on the chair next to him.

‘’Stay with Max tonight. Can you help me look after him? I know you know what he needs, because he told me. He says he feels safe with you.’’

‘’I love him’’ Matteo whispers. Fuck. The kid is adorable.

‘’I love him too.’’ Even laughs. ‘’And that kind of makes us family. So, stop apologizing Matteo. Look after my kid, and I will look after you, and we will all be kind of this messy family that just kind of hangs out and watches zombie moves. Is that chill with you?’’

‘’Can I buy some proper hot chocolate powder? Max says he has to have low GI stuff, but that Carob shite is rank. Sorry man.’’ God this kid is going to give Even trouble. He can see it all now. Things are going to become damn messy.

‘’Tell you what. You buy hot chocolate powder, on the proviso that I get to buy you some fucking new socks. And a laptop charger. Deal?’’

Matteo just cackles and wiggles his fucking useless socks at him. Whilst Even shakes his head.

‘’Kiddo, just humour me. I’m buying you socks. I’m not having my kid walk around like that.’’ Even is serious. Those socks are going in the bin.

‘’I’m not your kid.’’ The kid yaps back. Whilst Even just ruffles his hair and grabs a pen off the table.

‘’Here is my number, add it to your contacts. Ring me if there is anything you need. Can you send me a text so I have yours? And let me know the laptop model and I will order you a charger.’’

‘’You don’t have to look after me, I have looked after myself since I was thirteen…’’

‘’Shut up.’’ Even stands in the doorway. ‘’I know kid, but there is nothing wrong with letting someone help you once in a while. Family. We’re family. I scratch your back, you scratch mine. OK?’’

‘’OK.’’ Matteo says. He looks a bit wobbly, but hey. At least Even won’t be worrying sick about him getting back to Tøyenhagen in one piece and the sheer thought of Matteo staying in that place is making Even feel a little nauseous.

‘’I get off at 8 so I won’t see you in the morning. Tomorrow night?’’

Matteo nods. And Even feels surprisingly light as he hops down the steps onto the drive and lets the gravel crush under his feet. He likes the idea of this. And he is seeing Isak tonight.

 

Of course, he doesn’t even step through the staff entry door to the Storgata ER, before someone pushes at him and shouts at him and he has never changed into his scrubs as fast.

It’s chaotic out there. They don’t deal with the big incidents down here, this place is for people walking in with minor injuries. Parents with kids who can’t face the hospital waiting lines for an obvious stitch job. Yet there is shouting and screaming going on behind curtain 2 and there are two police officers filling paperwork at the desk, and Adam, who no doubt has done the early shift and not made it home yet just shoves a clipboard in his hands and points at curtain 5 without saying a word.

They don’t need to speak much down here, colleague to colleague. They are all experienced people where enthusiasm and bedside manners have worn off to create a comfortable silence of truths. People are shit. People do shit things. Then People are kind of fucking shit about it. Then we fix it. Rinse and repeat.

 

The woman behind curtain 5 is Astrid. Of course. It’s Sunday night and Astrid will have gone to evening mass and the fucking useless vicar will have filled her already fragile head with thoughts and not done his actual job of filling her with peace and calm. Which is why Even is a stern atheist.

‘’Astrid, hello!’’ says calmly. Whilst Astrid hurls abuse at him and tries to put her hand on his head to bless him from all sins.

She’s a lovely woman when she is calm. Despite her unkept looks and the unhinged temper.

‘’Astrid. Remember the rules we have discussed here? You do not bless me. That is for Jesus to do. OK? We made a deal with eachother. Now it says here that you have cut your leg. Would you let me look?’’

He get’s another round of abuse. Which he quietly sits and takes in. Nods appreciably at the intricate rant about the cobbled streets being the work of Satan. Yeah, he can agree with that.

She eventually get’s her leg up on the stool he has placed in front of her. Lined with the green protective paper they use for everything. Liner. Snot catcher. Blood soaker. Tear wiper.

It’s a clear cut. Crisscrossed with the scars of a myriad of different injuries that has Even’s textbook stitching written all over it. She’s not injury prone. Astrid may be in her late 60’ies but her self-harm is a long running issue, and her mental state overrides her cronic sensory issues, causing deep and frightening injuries that Even will patch up over and over again.

‘’Astrid, how are you getting on living at the Solrose group home? Are you enjoying it?’’

She mutters. It’s a great place. If they could only keep here there and not let her roam the streets at night. She needs to find a church that will calm her. A place of worship where someone can take her there and take her home after, not let her rail herself up to this state every Sunday night. That damn church she attends needs to be shut down.

Not that it is Even’s responsibility. He still patches her up and makes the phone call to the Solrose home himself. Exchanges pleasantries with Marie, the carer in charge. They know eachother well. And he waves Astrid off in a Taxi that he charges to the 'Healthcare in the community' account. Fuck them. They can sue him for all he cares.

He takes the gloves off his hands and folds them up carefully. Inside out. 'Protect, Preserve, Promote'. He mutters to himself. Letting the cool night air blow on his face for a second.

‘’Hello’’

He had almost forgotten about Isak. Oh God. Isak. Isak is here standing in front of him on the pavement like some apparition of sorts.

‘’You’re a sight for sore eyes.’’ He blurts out. ‘’I would shake your hand but I’m not clean.’’

 

He looks a right state. Blood down his leg and non-sterile gloves in his hand. He’s a walking talking bio-hazard.

Whilst Isak just shrugs his shoulders.

 

‘’How’s your head?’’

‘’Fine Even.’’

 

They just stand there. Even would hug him if he could. But then Isak would probably recoil in horror if he tried.

 

‘’My phone is in my coat pocket.’’ He angles his hips. Hands up in the air. He’s not clean. His lab coat is fine though. No blood.

Isak fishes the phone out of his pocket. Then just stands there. Looking at the lapel of his coat. The one where he keeps all the pins and badges.

 

‘’What are all the pins for?’’ He says. Looking genuinely curious.

‘’It’s a good icebreaker with patients. People tend to look and start asking questions.’’

Isak angles his head. Looking seriously cute. His hair is a mess. Curls and tangles. He hasn’t shaved all weekend either, and the scruff on his chin is doing things to Even’s insides. He kind of wants to reach out and touch it. Kiss it. Feel the course stubble against his lips.

‘’What’s the safety-pin for?’’ Isak says. His finger reaching out to stroke the ragged edge of the ‘’Proud LGBTQ Parent’’ pin.

‘’The safe space movement. It tells people who are looking that I am a safe person to speak to. That I won’t judge. That I am an ally to you whatever your race, religion or sexuality.’’

Isak just huffs. Yeah. He knows. Fucking hypocrite. But he’s not that person anymore. He spent his entire medical education sharing a dorm with people from all over the world. He spent his entire medical education learning. Soaking up people’s stories like a sponge. Figuring things out. And most of all realizing that humans are humans whatever shape colour or looks. He doesn’t judge. How can he? When he knows he can be the vilest of the vile when his fear and anger takes hold.

‘’Pan flag? Why would you have one of those Even?’’

Isak looks so angry. Like Even is ridiculing everything he holds dear.

And Even can’t help it. He lets the back of his finger stroke Isak’s cheek. Whilst Isak jumps back in fear.

 

 That was stupid. That was fucking stupid.

 

‘’I got myself into anger management classes during Uni Isak. I would never ever hurt you. I have never laid a finger on my son, and I have never behaved like I did at school again. Never. I would never….’’

‘’Shut up’’ Isak is cringing. He knows. He knows how fucking awkward this is for Isak. He should never have brought it up.

‘’Can I just tell you something?’’ Even needs to try. If this is his only chance. Please let me try.

‘’What?’’ Isak croaks out. He’s still clinging to Even’s phone. Arms around his body. His shoulders are up straight though. Defiant. And he is looking Even straight in the eye.

‘’I have been in love with you since the first day of school, the first day of Nissen. You and Jonas were sitting on the wall outside the A block laughing, and I think Mahdi came and asked you something and you all shook hands and laughed and you just pulled Mahdi in for a hug and I wanted that. I wanted to be hugged by you like that. I wanted you to be like that with me. I wanted you to just hug me and tell me that school would turn out just fine. ‘’

Isak is just staring at Even. Still defiant. Angry. The red on his cheeks is not embarrassment or a childish blush. It’s anger. Raw and unapologetic.

‘’I loved you all through school. I was just too fucking scared to do the right thing. I wanted to pick you up and shake you. I wanted to scream at you that I just wanted you to be mine. That I wanted you. That you made me feel things I had never felt before and that I was probably just as gay as you. I wanted you to help me. I wanted you to love me. I wanted you to fix me.’’

Even has to stop. He’s so out of breath it’s not even funny. And he is freaking out. Panting like Max does when he’s heading into a panic attack. Sweat pooling under his armpits. Drips running down this temple.

He pulls his fingers through his hair. Waves his other hand aimlessly through the air with those damn gloves still in it. They need to go in the Biohazard bin inside. He needs to breathe. Breathe Even. Breathe Damn it.

‘’You need to breathe.’’ Isak says calmly.

 

‘’Sorry’’ Even pants out. He needs to stop this. He needs to breathe. He needs to stop being an imbecilic twat.

Whilst Isak just stands there. Still with Even’s damn phone in his hand.

 

‘’Please don’t leave. I just need to dump these gloves and wash my hands and I have something I need to give you. Promise you wont leave. Just wait right here. Don’t go.’’

Isak doesn’t move. He just stands there, and in all his defiant anger and obvious shock at being word-assaulted by Even’s stupid no filter mouth and having some obviously deranged bloke spill fucked up declarations of love from years ago at him has obviously stripped him of the ability to speak.

 

Good. Let him stew in it. Because Even is a little angry too. Mostly at himself, but he had expected something. At least a punch in the face. A snide comeback. Anything.

 

Instead he runs inside and ignores the clipboard the receptionist is trying to hand him. He just waves the gloves at her like she is supposed to understand the whole fucked up universe of Even’s without saying a word. Washes his hands and doesn’t dare to look at his own face in the mirror. He doesn’t want to know what he looks like. He doesn’t want to face himself. He’s just done it. Said it out loud.

 

He wants to do it again. He wants to say it again. Keep saying it until he is blue in the face.

He grabs the bag from his locker in the staffroom and bolts out through the reception area like his arse is on fire. He has something he needs to do.

He needs to stop. He needs to think. He needs his head examined. Again.

And he stops right where he stands. Right in front of Isak who hasn’t moved an inch.

Pants into the dark street with his hands on his knees. Gathers himself Up. Stands up straight.

 

‘’I’m still in love with you Isak. It never went away. And I need to run with this, because what if there is something still there? What if you are the love of my life and I fucked it up? What if I can fix it? What If we can be together and make eachother happy? What if we throw this away over stupid shit that happened years ago, when there is a perfectly good chance that we could just be meant to be? That fate has just thrown us a second chance, and to be honest, we would be stupid not to at least try. Be friends. See where we end up?’’

He stands there like a twat, handing Isak the plastic bag in his hand. Long life. Reusable again and again and again, the bold lettering from the Swedish supermarket chain screaming out it’s message at him. Like it’s taunting him. Like the whole world is taunting him.

And Isak just looks at him. Leans over to look in the bag still dangling from Even’s outstretched hand.

‘’You bought me Kexchoklad?’’ He says. And damn. There is a little smirk. A glimmer of hope that just eggs Even on. Like there is actually hope. Like someone has handed him a thin glittering lifeline in the dark nightmare that is this moment. Right here. Right now.

‘’You said it’s your favourite. 52 bars of the damn stuff just for you. Because I love you and I would do almost anything to try to make you happy. And because I am a damn idiot that has no right to even be in your life but I can’t stop it Isak. I need to try. I need to make you see that I’m not that person from years ago, I have tried to hard to kill that person off and become someone good and worthwhile. To be better. Kinder and stronger. I’m not there yet but, damn it I’m not giving up now that I have found you again. ‘’

 

Even is out of breath. Exhausted. He’s done it. He said it. There is nothing more he can do.

 

‘’You need to punch your code in your phone.’’ Isak says. A-matter-of-factly, when Even just wants to die.

He still does it. Punches the damn code into the phone in Isak’s outstretched hand and stands there panting quietly as Isak does whatever it is he is doing with Even’s phone. The screen lighting up his face as he flicks between screens. His face blank with concentration.

 

‘’Thank you’’ Isak says and hands the phone back. Just like that. Like he hasn’t just crushed Even into the gutter.

‘’Welcome’’ Even sighs back. When all he wants to do is cry. Sink onto his knees and wail into the street.

 

Isak doesn’t say anything else. He just takes the bag out of Even’s hand and turns around. Walks away without even a look.

 

Nothing. There is nothing there.


	20. Hjerte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Den som intet hjerte har, kan alltid tåle.  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggerwarnings for this Chapter.
> 
> Mention of car accident.   
> Description of scars and burn injuries. Not graphic but could be upsetting if this is something you dont wish to read.   
> Skip from ''You can tell me anything'' to ''You are warm and soft'' if you want to skip this part.

 

I still haven’t got used to it. That he’s here. And the fact that he’s  A) actually into men. Or both or whatever. He doesn’t define himself which kind of suits him, being all mysterious but at the same time he is just so easy to read. He’s happy. Smiling. Yet there is a little bit of darkness hiding around his edges that just makes me want to scoop him up and protect him from the world.

I didn’t expect that. I have always kind of watched him from a distance, seeing only the cocky happy beautiful specimen of a man that he is. He’s got this little kink to the tip of his nose. His hair is a mess. Long and straggly and I bet he cuts it himself. Either that of his hairdresser is worse than ours. I mean we kind of go to Vilde because if we didn’t she would find us and hurl abuse at us in the street for not letting her fix all the things that she always seems to want to fix. Not that Vilde isn’t good at what she does, she can just be a little scary sometimes. And Dad is obviously terrified of her.

And back to my list. B) I still haven’t quite grasped that he loves me. I don’t understand it at all, but it is a mind-blowing feeling waking up with him crawling in under the duvet with me. Me all warm and a little sweaty from sleeping. Him Cool and freshly showered, smelling sweet of some fruity shampoo. His hair is still wet, and he has found another of my t-shirts to wear.

‘’Hi Pumpkin’’ He whispers and kisses my cheek, as he wriggles around to find a comfortable space against my side. His damp hair on my shoulder. His arms tight around my torso. His lips once again placing a little kiss on my stubbled cheek. I need to shave. I never shave.

‘’You are wet’’ I giggle.

‘’You are naked again.’’ He smiles back. ‘’Fuck I love you. Always naked. I can so learn to live like this.’’

I just laugh softly. Clothes for sleeping are so overrated. Especially when there is a chance of having another person share your bed. Which is terrifying in so many ways. But still like totally awesome.

‘’You should try it.’’ I say. Trying to drop a not so subtle hint. Having Matteo naked in my bed would just be like heavenly. I wouldn’t mind. Not a bit.

 

He doesn’t reply. Just curls into me and holds me tight.

‘’You don’t have to baby. I’m just messing with you.’’ I try. He’s obviously not OK. Fuck. Breathing shallowly and not letting go of me.

‘’Do you want me to put my clothes back on? Sorry about all the nakedness, I do it in my sleep. I get hot and just strip. I’m not used to other people in my bed.’’

Fuck that sounds slutty. And he is still quiet.

‘’I’m not used to having anybody in my bed. And I love having you here. Are you staying the night? You can. We can go to school together in the morning, if you don’t mind being seen with me?’’

Finally. He laughs a little into my collarbone.

‘’Pumpkin, we need to have some ground rules. I mean I love you and I don’t give a damn what anyone says, but I need to know what you are OK with. I mean can I kind of jump you in the corridors and snog you against the wall? Or would that freak you out? I kind of feel I don’t really know where your limits lie, what triggers you. I don’t want you to be worried that I will do something out there that you wouldn’t cope with. Because I’m all stupid when it comes to you. I just want to kind of live under your skin and kiss you all the time.’’

He kisses me again. On the lips. And fuck it’s amazing. Making my body fire up, and my cock twitch.

Which is a little terrifying. Because are we ready for this? Sex and stuff?

‘’I think I would be Ok with that’’ I say, whilst my head is deep in thought. I mean I think what would trigger me more is worrying that he didn’t love me. That it was all a joke. That he would ignore me at school and I wouldn’t know where I stood.

‘’With the kissing? Can I hold your hand at school? Sit on your lap?’’

He looks much younger like this, in the dusky light from my bedside lamp. His hair spread out against the pillow. Skin against my shoulder.

‘’Anything.’’ I whisper. ‘’What would make me anxious is not knowing. Ignoring me when I saw you, or not touching me when I’m right there. That would trigger all kinds of shit in my head, worrying that I had done something wrong or that you were just messing me around. My head is a confusing place when I get worried. I can’t always make sense of totally normal things and I overreact on the inside instead of just letting things slide. I am trying to work at it but it’s not easy. ‘’

‘’Thank you for telling me, and trust me Pumpkin, I’ve got you. I’ve tried to find ways of getting to know you for so long, and now that I finally have you, I’m not going to do anything to fuck this up. Promise. I’m yours. And you are mine. Please don’t forget that. Mine.’’

He nibbles at my lips again. Little soft kisses. I can taste his saliva on my lips. His spit on my tongue.

‘’Mine’’ I say back and tug a little on the hem of the t-shirt he is wearing. My t-shirt. It should come off. Really.

 

Instead he recoils at my hand touching the skin on his back. Shivers and whispers ‘’Sorry’ into my chin.

I suck at this. I am the worst boyfriend in the world. If that’s even what we are.

 

‘’Are we boyfriends? Beloveds?’’ I ask. I’m stupid. But since we are being honest and open here I might as well roll with it. The whole imbecilic stupidity of Maximillian Bech, age 17, rolled out in one big nerdy sentence. Like I don’t know. But I don’t. We haven’t said it.

He’s quiet for a little while which brews all kinds of horrible thoughts in my head. I probably smell bad. And am an extremely bad kisser. Maybe I am doing this all wrong. Maybe he expects me to do this? Maybe he doesn’t want to do this at all? Maybe that’s what he defines as? Kisses boys but doesn’t ever want to have sex? Maybe that’s a thing? Fuck I need to google it.

‘’There is something I need to tell you.’’ He says quietly and lets his finger stroke my cheek. Then moves my fringe out of my eyes.

He’s beautiful. Stunning. Pools of blue eyes and perfect eyelashes and that mouth that I just want to do things to. Fuck it. I kiss him. Press my lips to his, hard and uncoordinated, but I just need to feel him. Make my body remember that this is real.

‘’You can tell me anything.’’ I say. I sound more confident than I feel. Please don’t break up with me. Please don’t tell me anything bad. Please don’t leave.

 

‘’I’m not….’’ He takes a deep breath and I try to keep my eyes on him. Steady. When I can feel the waves. Lapping at my feet and I don’t want this. Please don’t do this to me.

‘’I’m not perfect, like you.’’ He stutters a little before he continues. ‘’My body, is not perfect. I have, some bits. Scars. Most of the skin on my hip is fucked. I had grafts from my back but It’s ugly. I’m ugly and disgusting and I don’t ever take my top off. I never have. I don’t want you to see it because you might just never want to touch me again.’’

 

Fucking hell, I almost laugh. Is that it?

‘’Baby’’ I almost whinge out. ‘’You have seen me. The inside of my head is ugly. I’m too skinny and I’m sometimes completely insane. You still love me. I hope. Please tell me you still love me?’’

‘’I love you’’ Matteo croaks out, but he doesn’t look like himself. If I wasn’t so freaked out I would say that he is probably as freaked out as me. In a freaked-out way. And I am saying the wrong things again.

 

‘’You are perfect. There is nothing a few scars will change about the fact that I think you are the most gorgeous bloke I have ever seen. I doesn’t change the fact that when you kiss me I feel like I am on some kind of magic mushroom trip. That you look at me and I go weak in the knees. That I am almost having a total freak out here because I thought you were going to say that you didn’t want to do this. That you and I were a mistake. Maybe that I smell bad and fart in my sleep?’’

 

I’m trying to make it light-hearted but he’s not smiling. Just pushes the duvet down his stomach until I can see the hem of the t-shirt. The bulge in his underpants. His hand shaking a little as he pulls the fabric up to reveal the curve of his hip.

 

He’s obviously trying to kill me. Seriously. Because he has also kind of revealed my cock and I have a semi going on that is not going to go away with his little impromptu striptease.

I kind of want to kiss him. Rub my body all over his and squirt spunk all over him. Scent him like a dog and make him mine.

 

But his skin is angry. Red and mottled bumps covering where the skin should have been smooth. Welts from scars that tell stories of pain that makes my stomach constrict and my throat dry up like sandpaper.

‘’What happened to you baby?’’ I croak out. I still reach out. Trace my finger over his stomach. It’s warm. Soft. It’s him.

 

‘’Car crash. I was 13. They are burns and the cuts are surgery scars from the internal injuries. My left kidney didn’t make it. ‘’

His eyes are closed and he is kind of trying to hide in my neck. Fuck. Fuck Fuck Fuck.

 

‘’Baby’’

He just groans. A little whimper. Please don’t. Please don’t cry because I couldn’t take it.

‘’Does it hurt? Now I mean?’’

‘’Some of the areas have very little feeling, others are really sensitive. It’s a mess.’’ His voice is barely there.

‘’It’s you, and you are beautiful.’’ I let the palm of my hand feel him. Stroking. Moving further up his chest to where the skin is smoother in patches.

‘’You are warm, and soft. Fuck, baby the things you are doing to me.’’ I am panting a little. Wanting to cover my now quite blatant boner up. I’m getting off on touching him. I don’t care about the scars. About the shapes and patterns on his skin. It’s him, and he’s fucking gorgeous.

‘’Can I take your top off? I just want to hug you, properly. Skin on skin. I think I need it. I think we both need it.’’ I’m not lying. My heart is racing and somehow, I think we both need to hug it out. Calm ourselves down. I also have questions. So many fucking questions.

 

He lets me undress him, taking the damn fabric off his near perfect body. His chest is strong. Arms to die for. A little blond fuzz under his armpits that I strangely want to nuzzle into. Smell him. Own him.

My hand rests on his stomach for a brief moment whilst my mouth snuggles into the little space behind his ear, and he almost winces, which makes me want to cry for him. Because he has a fucking little cute six-pack under the mottled skin and fuck me I am so done for.

‘’Beautiful’’ I whimper. ‘’You are so fucking stunning Matteo and you’re driving me crazy here.’’

 

Oops. And now my boner is firmly wedged in his groin. And I am kind of humping his briefs. I didn’t mean to but I am kind of loosing my will to control myself here. I shouldn’t but he is fucking right here. And I don’t have a clue what I am doing but I am still doing it and I need to get a grip and stop crazy jabbing my tongue into his mouth.

 

‘’Pumpkin.’’ There is a stray tear at the corner of his eye. I rub it out with my thumb.

‘’No tears. You don’t get to cry. Not when I’m here.’’

I mean it. He shouldn’t cry when I am right here to kiss everything better.

 

‘’Your boner is kind of stabbing me in the gut’s man’’

Trust Matteo to ruing my perfect romantic fuzzy headspace. Which inappropriately makes me burst out laughing.

 

‘’I suck at sex. Never done it. No clue what I am doing.’’

‘’You’re horny and have a rock-solid boner. Good start Pumpkin’’

Fuck, he’s back being all twinkly and cute again. I’m fucked.

‘’Have you… done it?’’ Level with me here baby, don’t make me say it out loud.

‘’Me? No. Kind of had a hand job from someone once but it didn’t work out. I kind of freaked. And he kissed kind of funny. All wet and sloppy and …bleurgh. ‘’

‘’Oh.’’ So, we are both fucked. What the hell happens now?

‘’I’m scared to even look at you Pumpkin, because I will just come in my pants.’’

 

We ** _are_** both fucked. Because I just squirted a little pool of pre come onto his stomach. I’m so fucking easy me. He just says a few words and I am ready to shoot.

 

‘’Can I?’’ I whisper and let my finger hook under his underpants. Tugging suggestively which spurs him into action. Gone. Just like that there is a fucking perfect cock in my hand. He’s not long, but he’s thick. Heavy in my palm, and I make some kind of sound I couldn’t even describe if I tried. It’s like I am trying to moan and swallow my tongue at the same time. I have Matteo’s cock in my hand and I am leaking onto my leg and fuck I need something to hump against and what the hell do I do with my other hand?

Well it takes two to tango and thank God Matteo seems to know what he’s doing, because he wraps his leg around my hip and grabs my wrist and slaps my hand down on his bum and then we kind of crazy hump eachother with my tongue down his throat, and he is kind of eating my mouth out and fuck his bum feels amazing under my hand and I think I might have just died. Apart from that my bed wouldn’t creak this badly in heaven and I kind of need to just dump the bed and put the mattress on the floor, because I fully intend to fuck this amazing man in my arms to kingdom come, and I think my Dad would kind of die with shame having to listen to the sounds we are making and the damn bedpost now banging into the wall with every thrust.

He’s straddling me now. His whole body on top of mine and his eyes closed, and I can only describe his face as blissed out. He looks as I feel and it’s fucking stupidly sexy and If I wasn’t so bloody turned on I would probably say something stupidly silly because damn. Damn.

I do my cum-face. The one where I scrunch my whole face up and scream silently into my fist. Apart from that my fist is full of Matteo’s hair and my other hand is kneading the hell out of his bum, and my mouth is so full of him that I can barely breathe. I just come. Blissfully ignorant of my own embarrassing self. I make sounds. Moan like I’m dying. I am. I’m dead. He’s killed me.

‘’Fuck’’ I pant out.

‘’Ahjjjhgghhgh’’ he shouts. I’ve just made a slippery slidey mess between us and Matteo is frantically humping in it which is just. Fuck. Damn. This. What the fuck are we doing.

But then he comes and I almost squirt again, my cock twitching as his eyes roll back and I kind of give him some pathetic attempt at mouth to mouth through his orgasm. He’s definitely not faking it. Oh my God. Mamma Mia.

Because this is going to be amazing. I have all these things I want to do. I want to fuck him. Rim him. Blow him. Eat him out like a gourmet dinner. I want to taste his cum. Lick his stomach clean after he has released all over himself. I want to pump it all out of him. Tease him and edge him until he is so fucking gone he can barely speak. I want to blindfold him and watch him come undone with just my tongue. I want to..

 

‘’Pumpkin’’ He pants and I kind of snap back into reality.

‘’Fuck you.’’ I smile. ’’Fuck baby. Damn. I think you have just killed me. I can’t even think straight.’’

No and I can’t say anything remotely suitable either. This is when you say I love you. This is when you hold the other person and reassure them that everything is just as it’s supposed to be. Well that’s what happends in films and shit.

He drags the duvet over us, and I can see what he is thinking. He’s hiding that body of his. And I am not having it.

 

‘’No secrets. No hiding. You see me baby, you see every crazy fucked up part of me. And you make it right. Every fuckin’ time. So, let me see you, because there is nothing more gorgeous than you. Look at you baby. You have a freaking six-pack!’’

I’ve dragged the duvet off us and let my fingers follow the lines of his muscles. The hard pads clear against the skin that covers them. It’s only skin. And it’s him. Uniquely him.

‘’I don’t like looking at it.’’

He looks sad again and I wrap him up against me. Hold him as tight as I can.

‘’I love you’’ I whisper. ‘’And we just kind of had sex.’’

His laughter makes it all better. We did. Didn’t we?

‘’Boyfriend.’’ He whispers. Kisses my cheek. ‘’Beloved.’’

‘’My beloved’’ I whisper back.

‘’Do you want to tell me about it? The accident?’’

‘’No,’’ He takes a deep breath. ‘’Yes, maybe. Not now. One day when I’m ready I’ll explain. It’s hard for me to talk about, and I don’t remember very much. I’ve chosen not to. ‘’

‘’That’s Ok. It’s all OK.’’

We talk about other things instead. About school and Tv and his theatre group and books and normal things. We talk until he’s asleep on my chest. I still keep talking. I tell him how pretty he is, and how beautiful his skin is in the soft light. I tell him how I love how his legs curl into mine. I love that he sleeps on my shoulder, when I always thought it would be me needing to curl into him.

When I sleep I don’t dream. It’s like my brain is exhausted. Like it’s finally able to switch off.

I sleep.

I sleep and I don’t move until the sunlight sprays glitter across my chest and his lips kiss me awake.

 

**Hi It’s Matteo, just to let you know were at school all ok. Max says hi too.**

**Hi Kiddo, don’t forget to let me know what charger you need. Have a good day at school and hope to see you later.**

**It’s a HP Pavilion. Not sure of the model. Standard school issue thing. Thank you. Feel a bit crap letting you buy it.**

**It’s my pleasure. How’s my son?**

**He’s enthusiastically enjoying Chemistry. The only class we have together. See you later.**

****

 


	21. Alene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Det er bare sterke folk som kan ta på seg å leve alene.  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

 

 

He hates the quiet. He used to treasure it, the times when Max would take a nap and just let him breathe for an hour, a rest away from the constant responsibilities and pressure. Parenthood had slayed him, but he had loved it. Loved every little second.

Now the quiet is strangling him and the sigh of relief his body let’s out when the familiar slam of the door hits and the walls rumble quietly as his son enters the kitchen. He smells of rain and outdoors, moving in a whirlwind of distant beats from his headphones and something squealing on the phone stuck in his hand.

‘’Where’s Matteo?’’ Even asks.

‘’I think you like him better than me.’’ Max mutters. But there is a smile on his face. A tiny smug grin.

‘’He’s a good kid. I like him. There’s a ten-pack of socks for him on your bed.’’

‘’Don’t go in my room Dad.’’

‘’I didn’t. Promise. I just opened the door and chucked the pack towards your bed. It might be on the floor. I didn’t hang around long enough to check. Your space. ‘’

 

They have made a deal. Max doesn’t go upstairs into Even’s space. Even doesn’t set foot past the threshold into Max room unless invited. In writing. Three copies signed in advance.

‘’It was Auntie Pagni’s birthday yesterday.’’ Max says, shoving half a banana in his face. Chewing.

Even can’t look. Table manners is something they still haven’t quite mastered. He shouldn’t complain though having eaten a very messy microwave burger for breakfast earlier, and not even wiped his hands. There’s evidence on the bathrobe he is still wearing. Whatever. Nightshifts do that to a person. Unexplainable food cravings after a few hours sleep, and it’s not like anyone will see him like this. Messy and dirty and slurping his now luke-warm coffee out of the mug next to his keyboard.

‘’Huh?’’ Even replies. Head in back in the laptop.

‘’You should send her something. Flowers. She’s your sister. ‘’

‘’Yeah’’. He should. ‘’What did you say again?’’

‘’DAD.’’

‘’Yes?’’ He’s a prat. His son is speaking. A rare occurrence of the teenaged son breed.

‘’It was Auntie Pagni’s birthday. Send. Her. Flowers. Or. Some. Shit.’’

 

Oh yes. It was. Damn. He’s a shit brother too.

 

‘’Did you text her?’’ He bets Max actually did.

‘’Yup. Did the Facebook thing too. Like other normal people.’’

‘’Are you on Facebook now?’’ Even tries to be interested. Not that he even knows his own password.

‘’No Dad. I use yours, remember? Have you heard from Isak?’’

 

The look on Even’s face should tell him all. He’s barely gotten dressed this week let alone gotten anything remotely useful done.

His phone has been silent, as has the house. Both of them tumbling around in their own space quietly hurting.

‘’Matteo?’’ Even tries. Whist Max bumbles down on the chair next to him, picking up Even’s cup and grimacing wildly as the tepid liquid hit’s his tongue.

‘’Working. He’s coming here after, if that’s OK with you.’’ Max huffs. ‘’This coffee is rank. ‘’

‘’Feel free to brew coffee for both of us.’’ Even snarls. Then softens his voice. ‘’ Matteo should stay here. I hate the idea of him living at that place he lives.’’

‘’He’s got nowhere else to go. No family.’’ Max is making a mess. Seriously. The kid knows every trick in the book for lazy teenagers who can’t do a single simple task. Like open a packet of coffee and measure out a scoop or two of powder into a brewing basket. Something he must have done a million times yet still manages to cock up.

 

It’s like a well-practiced routine. Even gets up and takes over. Huffs and shoves and pretends to be annoyed as he slams the lid down on the coffeemaker and presses ‘brew’.

‘’Of course he has family. He has us, hasn’t he? I mean he’s your boyfriend? Right?’’

The smile on Max’s face tells a million truths. Like yeah. And OK. Yup.

 

‘’Oh, I almost forgot.’’ Even rummages in his rucksack on the table and fishes out a bag. Tell-tale patterns of the hospital pharmacy printed all over it, that Max accepts with a skeptical look.

‘’Meds?’’ He questions then looks inside the bag and rolls his eyes.

‘’Supplies.’’ Even says. Looking stern. Because he’s not having this. They have had the birds and the bees talk. Several times. He knows Max knows. He’s just making sure.

‘’How many condoms will we need? Dad? Seriously? There must be hundreds in here?’’

‘’You are 17 Max, you will go through them in no time.’’

 

Yeah, that was clever. Now Max’s face is kind of purple and the bottle of lube he is holding up might have been a little bit overkill. It’s not subtle. But Eskild at the Storgata Pharmacy kind of knows his shit, and said he never buys anything else. Also, the 1 litre bottle with a one-handed pump dispenser is apparently very practical. And the condoms are cheaper in bulk.

‘’Rectal lubricant? Dad? Seriously? Talk about killing the mood.’’

‘’It’s better than commercial lube, it’s the stuff we use for intricate rectal exams and extractions, and it’s good for sensitive skin. No perfumes or flavours that could irritate the membranes.’’

Max just rolls off the chair. Lies down on the floor like he has just died of embarrassment. Which he probably has but Even just chuckles.

‘’Lube is important. It protects the thin skin in your genital area, where you can easily get grazes and small hairline tears that can transmit disease through your bloodstream. Also, it can sting like fuck. So, lube. Use it. Abuse it. Then let me know when you need more. ‘’

‘’I can buy my own shit Dad.’’ Max whines.

‘’Yes, but you don’t have access to the good stuff or staff discount.’’ Even says triumphantly as Max just rolls over on the floor.

His son is lying on the kitchen floor. And Even just steps over him to grab two cups from the shelf. The shelf that is gleaming with clean cups thanks to Matteo’s apparent housekeeping skills. He can stay. Anytime.

‘’Is everything good with Matteo?’’ he asks. Because he needs to know. Because he’s nosy, but also because this is a big change for Max. Emotional upheaval that might push his moods into a tailspin if they don’t take things slow. Slow and steady.

‘’Yeah, he’s great.’’ Max replies into the tiled floor.

‘’Does he know? I mean have you told him all the things he should know? Like the little signs to look out for in your moods, and your sleeping patterns?’’

‘’Dad…’’ Max sighs.

‘’I know you don’t want to talk about it, but he is the one person that is going to be closer to you than I am. He will probably pick up on things before I do, and damn Max, you are doing so fucking well and I just don’t want anything to happen to mess up this run were having. You’re stable. You are happy. You are bloody amazing. ‘’

‘’He knows. He’s kind of googled everything, and he remembers shit. He’s so bloody clever Dad.’’ Max has rolled over again. Lying flat on his back on the floor with his arms out to the sides.

‘’Good. ‘’

Even sinks down on the floor handing Max the cup in his hand. The other one following from the work top. They used to do this sometimes when Max was younger. Just lie on the floor and talk. Like kids. Like the world wasn’t such a scary place when you could just zone it out.

‘’It’s all gone to shit with Isak.’’ He has to say it. It helps when he says it out loud. Makes it less heart-breaking.

‘’Sorry.’’ Max replies. ‘’If it makes you feel any better he looked like shit on Tuesday. I went to the QueerNissen group, and he just sat there. We tried to make him laugh but it was like he had a million things on his mind and just couldn’t focus. Anyway, it was a right laugh and we watched some lame move and ate like a crate full of biscuits. I wish I had known about it before, because it’s more like crazy mitfits of Nissen rather than Queer Nissen. Even though I think one of the girls is bi. I think.’’

‘’Isak?’’ Even says? Because Max is talking so fast and Even’s sleep deprived brain is struggling to catch up. Flipping from subject to subject in each sentence.

‘’What about him?’’ Max questions. Leaning up on his elbow to take a sip of the coffee on the floor next to him.

‘’He looked like shit? Like Sad or like he has partied all week or something?’’ Even needs details. Whilst Max just shrugs his shoulders.

‘’He looked heartbroken Dad. What the heck did you do to him?’’

Even just looks down. Takes a deep breath. He wants to cry a little. Bang his head into the wall with his own stupidity.

‘’I think I overwhelmed him with my fucking stupid fairy-tale shite. I basically told him he was the bloody love of my life and he ran off before I could even get myself together enough to apologize. It was just. Weird. I’m so fucking stupid.’’

‘’Sounds fucking romantic to me Dad. Did you give him his chocolate?’’

‘’Yeah’’ Even whispers. Wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

‘’Shame. I really fancied one. Those Kexchoklad are fucking addictive.’’

 

Even doesn’t reply. Sits back up and leans his back against the kitchen cabinets, letting his lips suck on the rim of his coffee cup.

‘’Dad. It will be OK.’’ Max says softly.

‘’It won’t.’’ How can it? He is going to grow old. Sit in his chair like some pensioner playing sudoku and reading the paper with his feet in some smelly unattractive slippers until he loses his marbles. Whilst Max will move out and live happily ever after with that ridiculous boy of his.

‘’If it’s meant to be, its meant to be.’’ Max sighs. ‘’Have you tried texting him? ‘’

‘’No. It’s in his court. I have nothing more to say to him. I kind of said it all.’’

‘’You told him that you want to suck his cock?’’

 

Even rolls his eyes. It’s not even funny. Not anymore. Whilst Max chuckles softly.

 

‘’Maybe I should just apologize. Promise never to contact him again.’’

‘’Dad, you can’t give up now. I mean what do I know, but if I were you I would send him some epic shit and say that you will love him to the day you will die. That’s some totally romantic stuff right there. ‘’

‘’It’s not his thing. He’s embarrassed and freaked out.’’ Even snivels. He fucked up. He fucked up so badly it’s not even funny. Not even the tiniest bit.

‘’Then Dad, he needs a hug. You two need to hug it out until things are better.’’

 

Max looks serious as well. Like he knows this. Like he’s not a freaking hopeless 17-year-old kid who has barely figured out how to tie his shoelaces and brush his teeth. And the jumper he is wearing seriously needs a wash.

‘’I can’t just go find him and hug him to death. That would be classed as assault.’’ Even sighs. It’s hopeless.

‘’Yes, you can, if you ask permission. Say. ‘Isak. Dude. I need a hug.’ ’’

‘’Never works with you. I ask for hugs all the time and you just walk off.’’

 

Max actually looks a little guilty. Like he has touched a nerve.

‘’Sorry’’ he whispers. Then he does it. Sits up and crawls over. Curls into a little ball between Even’s legs. Leans that messy mop of hair of his against Even’s chest. It’s not a hug. But it’s something. And Even sobs quietly.

He sobs little embarrassing hiccupped spasms, trying to control himself when he honestly can’t. He’s not even sure that it matters anymore. That life hasn’t just kicked him in the balls and laughingly chucked a whole bucket of karma in his face.

He deserves it. He does. There is no denying it. He deserves to be lonely and sad and pathetic for the rest of his life. At least he has this. The familiar comforting smell of his darling baby son against his chest. His lips kissing the top of his head. Nuzzling his nose into the strands of hair that are almost back to dark blonde. Streaks of faded highlights shining through again, like little specks of sunlight.

 

‘’Thanks. ‘’ he hiccups out.

 

‘’I was just thinking.’’ Max almost whispers out. ‘’I was thinking if Matteo came through the door now I wouldn’t even be embarrassed. And do you know what he would do? He wouldn’t even hesitate. He would come down here and lie on the floor with his head on my lap and tell me about something totally irrelevant. You know like a TV show or some new line he has come up with for Drama, and it would be OK. I think that is love. When you just feel so comfortable and safe with eachother that it doesn’t matter anymore. It doesn’t matter what stupid shit I say, he just laughs at me and I kind of know, that he still loves me. I mean its barely been a week or so but fuck Dad, he makes me feel all kinds of fucked up. ‘’

‘’That’s good. That’s really good kiddo.’’ Even snuffles into Max’s hair. It is. It sounds bloody perfect. How come his son has everything figured out and Even can’t even figure out how to say sorry and make it sound like he means it?

‘’So that’s what you need to do. You need to go to Isak and hug him. Say you know you are an idiot but that you love him and that everything will be OK and that the two of you will figure things out.’’

Even wishes things were that simple. That words can just put things right. That he could just do that. Curl into Isak’s arms and let him stroke his hair and tell him that things would work out. That everything isn’t lost. When Even knows deep down in his heart that it is. Because he lost this years ago.

‘’It’s not always that easy.’’ He says.

‘’Sometimes Dad, it _is_ just that easy’’

He wishes he believed it. With all the gusto and confidence of youth.

 

**Hi Isak. Before you delete this and block me, unless you already have, please just let me tell you something.**

**I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being me. I’m sorry for being a pathetic arsehole who ruined your life during school, a time when you should have been happy and free and not lived in fear of me. I’m sorry. I can’t say it enough.**

**But there was a couple of hours, when you and I were happy. When we were bloody fucking perfect Isak, and that is what I need you to remember. Yes you were a little drunk. Yes I was a little stupid. But I got to hug you. Hold you in my arms and kiss you, and for a little tiny while our little world was amazing. You kissed me and for the first time in my life I felt like I had come home. Yeah you can laugh all you want but it was pivotal for me. You made me feel like everything had finally fallen into place, and I never wanted it to end. I kissed you, and you kissed me back. We just existed in this little bubble on the deck of an abandoned beach hut on a summers night many years ago, and I can still smell the grass on your overalls. Taste the salt on your lips. Feel the dampness of the sea in your hair.**

**I know it was years ago and it’s pathetic that I haven’t moved on, but I am me. I don’t fall easily, and nobody has made me feel anything like the way you made me feel. Go ahead Isak. Laugh at me. But maybe you can understand why I am pushing so hard. Why I can’t stop myself from trying. Because we were perfect once. Once for a pathetic two or three hours when time stood still and for the first time in my life I was truly me.**

**You fell asleep and I carried you back to Eva’s car, because I couldn’t just leave you there. I wish I had stayed. I wish I had woken up and found you still in my arms. I didn’t. I was just shit scared you would reject me. Laugh at me and my pathetic crush on you. I have regrets Isak, so many regrets.**

**I will stop pushing, because I know you don’t feel the same way about me, but I had to tell you. I have to finally stop lying. I loved you. I still love you. I love the idea of us. But that is still me.**

**I hope you are happy, and I wish you nothing but happiness and laughter. Believe me Isak. If I could I would spend the rest of my life making you smile. But it’s not what you want and I respect that.**

**Be happy. Love Even.**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Happy Birthday to the most amazing Pagnilagni. This chapter should have been up a few days back but I kind of got distracted getting Mahdi laid. In Swedish. Go read the amazing RusseExtravaganzafic for the russ season we never got to see, written by some of the most amazing people. 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/14492364?view_full_work=true


	22. Gruble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blant hundre som grubler, til tenker blir én.  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

 

Isak has had bad weeks. Terrible months. Horrid days when he seriously thought about just hiding his pathetic self under the duvet and never seeing the light of day again. 

 

But this week. Fuck. It’s not even him.

 

He’s not heartbroken. It’s nothing he did. He should be fine. He should be sitting at home eating another bar of damn chocolate and laughing. Laughing straight in Even’s face. Not walking the streets of Oslo in the morning sun feeling like he is about to explode.  


 

Yes, that’s the problem.

 

Because it’s fucking tempting just to admit it, even though he knows what an incredible stupid idea the whole pathetic fucking head canon of giving in to the crazy ideas that come out of Even Bech Næsheim’s mouth is, that he likes it. That he can kind of imagine it. Which makes him want to roll himself into a ball on the ground and just scream. Hurl abuse at himself and,well. Let’s just say that the short walk down to Vinmonopolet is really tempting. A few bottles of beer and some matching shots of something stronger later, and Isak’s head would be nice and fuzzy place to lounge around in and maybe he wouldn’t be so damn confused.

 

But then Isak knows. He knows the stupid shit his head comes up with when he’s had a few. And he wouldn’t just be drunk this time. He would be fucking drunk on Even and his phone would be a damn liability.

 

Which is why he doesn’t understand what he is doing. He hasn’t understood shit all week, being pathetically depressed and moody. Like he should be hanging his head over the fact that some idiot from way back had a crush on him. Yeah. Right. Pathetic juvenile shit. It means nothing. Everyone had crushes. Isak had had a few. And it’s not like he lies in bed at night thinking about Julian Dahl, even though he was kind of cute. Fuck. He doesn’t even know what happened to him. Maybe he should google. Check Facebook?

 

No, Isak is pretty much fucked. His lessons have been pathetic. He chickened out of Max’s tutoring both days and let Miriam do her thing. Apparently, Max aced it, and Miriam had looked at Isak and kind of questioned what they were actually doing. The kid is smart. Bright. He should just sit a few backdated exams and get on with it.

 

Yet Isak kind of knows that that would just rile up a storm of anxiety in the kid and undo what they are trying to achieve here. Small steps. A little at a time. Day by day. No pressure. Just work through the coursework and get him passed. It’s how he functions, and they can do this. It’s fine.

It’s just that sitting there staring at the kid, when all he can see is Even, is the worst kind of mind fuck.

 

And he knows what he needs to do. He should ring up his therapist, the middle aged lady he crawls back to, with his head in his hands, every time he fucks his life up. She knows him. She’s known him since he was 19 and terrified of his own shadow despite his cocky confident appearance. She has heard all his inner bullshit, yet she never judges, just sits down and listens whilst he spills the verbal diahorrea of the catastrophic clusterfuck he has made of his life again. They have agreed to carefully laid out strategies of how Isak should manage his insecurities. They have agreed that he needs to remember that he is strong. That he has no reason to fail at anything. He is a good person. He just needs to make the right choices. Not fall for the rash decisions that cause his life to crumble. 

 

He had met Peder during the first week of Uni, both of them irresponsible and clueless, hanging out and exploring their new found freedom of living away from home. Peder had a girlfriend back in Stavanger. Peder was straight. Peder also lost all his inhibitions after a few beers and the two of them had developed a stupid thing of pretty much shagging each other senseless on a friday night only to wake up on the saturday morning and pretending the other person didn't exist. It had been the most unhealthy relationship, Isak could see it now, but at the time he had pretty much fallen apart when Peder’s girlfriend moved in and Isak was pushed out like a disease. He had rebound straight into Stuart, the new exchange student, who Isak had basically broken during a few weeks of complete and utter madness. It had gone on. On and On. Jonas trying to pick up the pieces and Isak’s life just spinning out of control until he lost it. 

Because Isak just keeps making the same mistake, over and over again. Falling for unsuitable assbutts of men who have no intention of loving Isak until the day that they die. And that line is firmly stuck in Isak’s head like a broken record. It wasn't even real. It was some lame joke that Even had thrown in there to lighten the mood, yet Isak clings to it like a lifeline. 

He had spent the second year of Uni battling glandular fever caused by exhaustion. Well that was the official take, but Isak knows he just lived his life too fast. Irresponsibly and recklessly not stopping long enough to mend his broken heart. Just putting a plaster on it and moving on when his body was screaming for a break. He studied. Shagged around. Cried himself to sleep in his dorm room. Promised himself in therapy that he needed to be kind to himself. Love himself. Let himself heal.

 

Which is why Isak doesn’t understand why his fingers googled Dr Even Bech. Dr Even Bech who has published umpteen papers on emergency medicine, is an outspoken champion on reforming the Care in the community system and is apparently a bit famous as part of a group called the StreetMedics. There were photos. Interviews. Press pieces that looked almost staged of Even hunched in monochrome tones under a streetlight, with his stethoscope out listening to the heartbeat of some guy who was obviously homeless. Wrapped up in dirty blankets with a resigned look on his face.

 

Yeah, and he was right there on 1881. Mobile number and address. Staring him right in the face, and now he can’t undo what he saw. Andemsveien 4 0884 Kjelsås Oslo.

 

He even knows where it is. He has passed the turnoff to that road before. Shit.

 

And now his feet are walking like they have a life of their own. He doesn’t even understand what he is doing. He doesn’t understand himself. Not at all.

 

This is going to end so badly that he can’t even grasp why he had done it this morning. Phoned in sick.

 

He has a perfect attendance record. He is NEVER sick. Yet today he didn’t even have to fake it, his voice thick with the flu. Well, it’s not flu. He is love sick. Stuck in some imbecilic daydream in his head that if he can just get up the road and see Even his life will just magically be different.

Yeah. It will be different all right. He will look like an idiot, and he will take one look at Even and remember that he fucking hates the guy.

 

Which is a lie. Because Even is still the most beautiful man Isak has ever seen, and if his fucked-up brain would just work a little better he might remember that he also kisses like a movie star. Isak wouldn’t mind a repeat performance. Because Isak remembers more from that summers night years ago, than he actually wants to admit to himself. He remembers hands stroking his skin. He remembers the terrified look on Even's face as Isak had climbed onto his lap. Pressed his body against Even's who was now stuck against the creaking wood of the beach hut behind them. His hands had been around Even's neck, fingers pressed hard against the sweat under his tousled hair, that felt damp against his own skin.   


He had only meant to tease, to do his usual party trick. Frighten him with intimacy until Even ran off, rattled and confused. 

Instead he can remember hearing his own pulse in his ears. Desire surging through him like poison invading his veins. It had been unstoppable. He couldn't have fought it if he had tried. Because it was late, and the sun was warm on his skin, and Even had smelt so damn fine. Like the sea and grass and summer and happiness. 

Even had been right. For a little while it had been bloody perfect. His lips on Even's, soft tongue pressing against his own. His hips grinding in circles over Even's stomach, his knees aching with the effort of holding himself up, pressing harder against the body underneath him. Moving. Jerking. Pulling and tugging at that damn hair in his grip. Kissing the damn guy like he would die if he didn't. If he hadn't been so drunk he would have taken it further, and seduced the fuck out of him. Pulled the damn russ overalls over his shoulders in a few swift moves and sucked the plump nipples on Even's no doubt perfect chest into his mouth. Tugged at them with his teeth. Licked and tasted his skin, still salty from the seawater, warmed up by the sun on their backs. He would have had him naked and panting underneath him. Sucked his cock into his mouth whilst Even begged.  Begged and pleaded, his voice full of shame. Terrified of being discovered out in the open, lost to eachother in a place where anyone could have seen them. 

Not that that happened. Instead Isak had kind of passed out at some point, still with Even's lips on his own, hands stroking his hair and little words being whispered in his ear. He can't remember what he said but he knows he never wanted Even to stop. He was held and loved and kissed and it had been like some kind of fucked up dream sequence in an arty-farty movie. And Isak has probably made it all seem a hundered times more perfect than it actually was in his head. His memories are laced with alcohol and kind of shady. It probably was nothing like what Isak thinks he remembers. 

 

Lies again. He just can’t admit it to himself. The idea that being loved by someone. Having a relationship with someone who just adores you. Selflessly and flawlessly. A relationship that wouldn’t be so full of drama and angst about if it is going to work out in the end. 

 

Because Even had said it out loud. He loves him. He wants to spend the rest of his life making Isak smile.

 

And it’s just that it is so tempting, to just fall for it. Let it happen. And it makes Isak want to cry. Because if he is very very honest with himself that is everything he has ever wanted. Just to feel safe and loved and cared for. The sheer thought of curling up into Even’s arms and letting him take everything away, well, that’s what he is doing. Probably. And it is all going to end in a massive disaster.

 

Because whilst Even can seamlessly create magic and fairy tales with a few words, Isak will stand there tongue-tied and make a complete spectacle of himself. Because his stomach is all tied up in knots, and he has been on the verge of tears for days.

 

He doesn’t want to be lonely. He doesn’t want all this. He wants to be loved and he wants a family and he wants someone to kiss goodnight and he has always wanted. Even.

 

Yes. He has actually said it to himself. And Even loves him. So, in theory Isak just has to turn up. Throw himself at the guy.

 

Which goes against everything that Isak has promised himself he would never do again.

He is going around in circles in his head whilst his feet have just turned into the gravelled path up the road to number 4. A dark brown wooden square box of a house, the style that might have seemed cool in the 70ies, but now just looks dull. There is some kind of veranda, and a patch of unkept garden. An abandoned houseplant long dead carelessly thrown to the side by the steps up to the front door, and a childish sign nailed to the wooden mailbox. Even and Max.

 

And Isak wants to cry again. Because he doesn’t belong here. He never has. And he doesn’t understand he how he could ever think he would.

 

It’s times like this Isak wishes he smoked. Just to have something to do with his hands instead of sitting here on the doorstep to a house he shouldn’t have gone anywhere near, chewing on the hardened skin on the side of his thumb. Looking at his worn trainers. Wondering how things have come to this. Where he has completely lost his mind.

 

Even Bech Næsheim is an unreliable human being with a reckless temper and a son who is an emotional wreck. Isak Valtersen is a stable reasonable human being with a good job, his own flat, and he could easily go out and find a willing boyfriend. He doesn’t look that bad. He could turn on the charm if he wanted to. He just doesn’t want to.

 

Because to be honest he is tired. He is so damn tired of searching. Looking. Finding and then being disappointed in both others and himself.

He’s still disappointed in himself.

 

And he doesn’t even know if Even is home or working or doing something completely different. 

 

He doesn’t know what he is doing here.

 

He shouldn’t be here. This is just stupid. Wrong and stupid.

 

So, he stands up. Wipes the dirt off the back of his trousers. He is going to go home and get drunk and tomorrow is Saturday and he will sleep all day and by Sunday he will be over this. By Sunday he will go for an extra long run and clean the flat and sort out his lesson plans and go back to being responsible and reasonable.

 

And dull. Dull and boring. A coward.

 

Isak Valtersen is a coward. Because he stands there on the stone steps and stares at the figure walking up the drive. He looks tired. Carrying two shopping bags and a rucksack. Walking slower than he probably should.

 

Even looks drained. Exhausted. Probably straight of a night shift, then he’s gone and done the weekly shop on his way home, which would kill anyone. Isak can’t stand it. And now Even is dragging himself home to collapse into bed for a few hours, whilst Isak stands here like some lovesick stalker.

 

He hasn’t seen him yet, and Isak probably has a few seconds of a window to disappear. He could probably throw himself around the corner. Hide until Even has gone inside, and then sneak off home. Safe. For now.

 

But he is tired. He is so tired of running. He is tired. Tired of it all. He is just as tired as Even who has dropped one of the shopping bags on the ground. He just stands there. Staring at Isak like he’s some burglar or something.

 

He looks terrified. And something in Isak has snapped because Isak can’t do a thing. His stomach is heaving. His chest on fire. And there are sobs brewing in his throat that he probably won’t be able to stop.

 

‘’Hi.’’ 

 

That’s all Even says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to Pagni and Evak4Ever who helped me nitpick this mess of a chapter and cheerled me as I completely lost the plot for a while, along with Isak.


	23. Håp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Løft ditt hode, du raske gutt!  
> Om et håp eller to ble brutt,  
> blinker et nytt i ditt øye,  
> straks det får glans av det høye!  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the amazing kudos, comments, messages, Jodels, and the screams of frustration. I am thrilled that you all love this story, and hope you will hang in there for the most epic of slowburns I have ever written. Damn. 
> 
> As always thank you to the people who push me along. You know who you are. x

 

 

Even’s voice is surprisingly calm.

 

He takes a few steps forward. Lets the other shopping bag fall to the ground with a dull thud. Then stops. He’s about a meter away. Not too close. Not crowding. Non-threatening. Just looking at Isak the way he does. Like he’s sad. But not. Like he is calm, whilst his insides are probably raging like a hurricane.

 

Isak knows that feeling well well, because he is ready to throw up.

 

‘’Did you mean it?’’ he croaks out. Because what else can he say?

 

‘’Every word,’’ Even says back. He’s still so calm. How can he be so fucking calm?

 

‘’No, no, the thing you said on the beach, you know? ‘’ Isak stops and tugs at his hair. Fuck. He takes his snapback off his head. Puts it back on. His hands diving deep into his pockets.

 

‘’I don’t know what I’m doing.’’ he almost whispers. ‘’I don’t know why I’m here.’’

 

He shrugs his shoulders. Swallows loudly. Tries to breathe.

 

‘’I said a lot of things to you on that beach‘’ Even says, finally showing some kind of nerves. Because his hands are shaking. Fiddling nervously with the keys that he digs out of his pocket.

 

‘’You said you would love me until the day that you died.’’

 

It sounds pathetic and childish coming out of Isak, and he regretted saying it the second the words left his mouth. Like it’s something he is quoting from a dirty romance or something when in reality the words are making Isak want to curl in on himself and sink through the ground. Right here and now.

 

Then they stand there. Isak looking straight at him. He doesn’t know how he does it, but somehow it grounds him. The fact that Even’s eyes don’t waver. That he looks back. Trying to calm them both.

 

‘’Isak’’ he finally says and takes a tentative step forward. His head cocked to the side.

 

‘’This will never work. You have to see that? You and me. How the fuck would this work? ‘’ Isak is almost shouting now. Trying to get some of this damn frustration out of his system.

 

Then there is a hand on the side of his neck. And another on his shoulder. And Even is too close. Too close. There’s hot breath on his face. Eyes right in front of his own. His breath hurting his ribs with the intensity his lungs are trying to pump oxygen into his blood.

 

‘’It will work. If you want it too.’’ He whispers. ‘’Because I will never hurt you. I **_will_ ** love you until the day I fucking die. Even my son told me to say that to you. Said it was romantic as fuck.’’

 

He’s smiling. The damn fucker is smiling. And Isak thinks he manages a little smirk.

 

‘’You said it to me before. You told me when I was falling asleep, that time at Huk. You whispered it, said you would love me until the day that you died. I have never forgotten. Pathetic. I know. ‘’

  


And here come the tears. Right on cue. Like he isn’t already fucking this up.

 

Whilst Even just wipes the dampness in his eye away with his thumb.

 

It shouldn’t work like this. A tiny stroke over his eyelid. But it makes Isak feel small. Small and helpless and vulnerable and he clings to him back. Wraps his arms around Even’s neck. Hides his face in the collar of his jacket. Breathes in the scent of him in deep gulping sob

  


‘’I’m so tired.’’ Isak whispers. He is. It’s true. He’s so tired of trying to keep it together.  

‘’Me too. It was a busy night.’’ Even whispers back.

‘’Sorry. I should let you sleep.’’ Isak really should let Even rest. Not that he is letting go of him. Not yet.

‘’No, no no,’’ Even says. ‘’Stay. Please stay a while.’’ His hands are strong on Isak’s back. Calm strokes over the outside If Isak’s jacket.

‘’Okay,’’ Isak says back. He thinks. Because he doesn't quite know what is happening right now.

 

He has to loosen his grip as Even gently nudges him up the stairs. Letting go as Even turns the key in the lock. Standing there like a fool with tear stains down his cheeks. He’s a wreck. A mess. And he stands there letting Even go back down the steps to retrieve the shopping bags from the drive.

‘’Let me help,’’ he says quietly and Even just nods. Walking heavily back up the stairs handing a bag to Isak. Reusable and worn. Eco friendly. Big showy green letters almost to sharp for Isak's eyes right now.

It’s the strangest thing, standing there in what is obviously Even’s kitchen, unpacking these random groceries from a bag. Isak placing things on the kitchen table as Even loads things into cupboards. Absentmindedly twirling a packet of spaghetti through his fingers, then clumsily dropping it, whilst Even just picks it up with a nervous smile..

 

He’s so fucking pretty. Even through the obvious exhaustion is written all over his face, he is beautiful. A little rugged and lived in, but his eyes are right there on Isak’s. Grounding him like a stake into the soil.

 

‘’Do you want coffee?’’ he asks. Nodding over to the coffee machine in the corner. Whilst Isak just shakes his head.

‘’Sandwich? I could make us some breakfast?’’ Even offers.

Whilst Isak shakes his head again.

 

‘’I don’t know what I want.’’ he says. It sounds wrong, but it’s the truth.

 

It’s just a little movement of Even’s head, but Isak follows as he walks down the short hallway to the living room. A large open space framed by windows. Views over the city. A sofa large enough for a football team and a widescreen TV. Books stacked randomly on the bookshelves lining the walls. And Isak's hands are back in his pockets. His snapback landing on the coffeetable. Feet shuffling on the rug beneath his feet.

 

‘’Sit’’ Even says. And Isak does. Because what else can he do?

 

Even sits himself down a cushion length away. Stares into the blank TV screen with a resigned expression on his face, He takes a deep sigh, not even casting a glance Isak’s way. Almost like he can’t bear to look at Isak. Like if he did he would totally lose his nerve. Swallowing loudly before he finally speaks.

‘’ Isak, I have no fucked up illusion that this is going to be easy. I know that this is going to be hard and I have no doubt in my mind that you and I will struggle at times, and we might even hurt each other in the process. I don't know if we can even like each other enough to be friends, because even though I might sound like I have this whole thing figured out, I am shit scared. I am terrified of you. I am terrified of the way you make me feel, and I have no idea how to deal with that.’’

 

‘’Don’t be scared of me.’’ Isak doesn't sound convinced himself. Because to be honest he is frightened of what might come out of Even's mouth next. Not to mention his own.

 

‘’I have never been in love with anyone else but you. No one has ever made me feel like you do, and that is quite a shitty place for me to be in because if you walk away that is kind of the end of the line for me. I’m not saying that my life would be over, I have a good life, and I would live, but I have to try this. I have to try to fight for you, for you and me, because I don't want to look back at my life and think that I didn't try when I finally had the chance to put this right. I don’t want any more regrets Isak.’’

 

Even looks like all the words have drained him. Like there really is nothing left.

 

‘’You were with that Sonja. And you made Max, surely you loved his mum?’’ Isak looks skeptical. He feels it too. Even doesn’t make any sense, not that he ever did.

 

Yet Even just shakes his head.

 

‘’I was with Sonja, because it made us both look good. She was quite clear that that was the idea behind what we were. She was smart and funny and loving, and don’t get me wrong, I loved being with her, and we had some amazing times, but it was never right. It was never going to last, and Max’s Mum…’’

 

He stops and has to compose himself, which in a strange way makes Isak just want to reach out and touch his hand. He doesn't though.

 

‘’Max’s mum was this amazing whirlwind of a girl. We met in this club, and she just danced into my arms, laughing. Holding on to my collar whilst I spun her around the room. She was bright and smart and funny and we just kind of clicked over some disgusting sticky cocktails and then we did shots and I ended up in her bed. I left in the morning, after a cup of instant coffee and a headache tablet. Romantic as fuck eh? The next time I heard from her she told me that she was pregnant, and that I had just under 3 months to get my shit together to be a single Dad. She’s never laid a claim on Max. Signed her parental rights away once the umbilical cord was cut. I picked him up from hospital 3 days later, and my life was never the same. I have no regrets when it comes to Max Isak. Zero. He has been the light of my life since the day I first held him in my arms, and that will never change. Somehow I lost you, but if I had had you, I would never have had Max, but now, I’m not making any sense, but at least you’re here.’’

 

‘’Yeah’’ Isak starts and then he doesn't know what to say. He has nothing to say. What can he say?

 

‘’Max’s Mother works at the European Commission in Brussels. She never married or had other children. We google her now and then, for Max. He knows she’s an amazing person, and that she made the choice that she thought would be best for everyone, and I will never say a bad word about her. She gave me the greatest gift, and never asked for anything in return. I can’t say it enough, my son is a little shit, but damn he’s amazing.’’

 

‘’He’s a good kid. He’s doing well with the tasks we set for him.’’

 

Isak shouldn't talk about his students off school property. He has no right to discuss Max progress with his father. Yet right now it seems like a damn fine safe topic away from the terrifying discussion they were attempting to have.

 

‘’Good.’’ Even stutters. Putting his thumb in his mouth to nervously chew at a fingernail.

 

‘’But you had other relationships? Surely?’’ Isak should shut his mouth for a while. Yet at least they are talking. Clumsily and awkwardly, but still.

 

‘’No. I was a single Dad, with a full time job. Not quite the right place to meet someone. I really didn't want to either, because looking after Max took everything out of me, and I somehow lost myself along the way. Like there was nothing left of me for anyone else, if you see what I mean?. Then everytime I met someone, when I thought, well maybe? You know? Then fucking Isak Valtersen would pop up in my head like some damn ghost of doom and I would just think back to how I treated you. I loved you and I hurt you and it was so damn fucked up and just the thought of it made me run away kicking and screaming.’’ Even’s arms are flaying through the air. Talking with his hands as he does.

 

‘’Cock-blocked by Isak the Ghost of Doom.’’ Isak laughs. I mean. It’s becoming surreal now. ‘’That sounds like some fan-fiction piece my students would write.”

 

‘’Yeah, maybe’’ Even smiles at least. In between a yawn and what’s probably a tiny giggle. Which of course is infectious, making Isak stifle a yawn of his own under his hands.

 

‘’I should go.’’ Isak says. ‘’I should let you sleep.’’

 

‘’I only need a few hours, I’m off this weekend and I need to somehow sleep tonight.’’ Even turns to him, and leans forward. Just a little bit. But Isak still jerks backwards.. Like it’s inbuilt. All his defenses on full alert.

 

And Even looks crushed, because of course he notices. His face flushing red with embarrassment.

 

‘’Please stay, if you want to. You can have a rest on the sofa, and I mean we have all the TV channels, and I’ll make you some lunch later. Make your own coffee, just help yourself and there’s food….’’

 

‘’Even. Go to bed.’’ Isak smiles. Because the bloke is clearly delirious with tiredness.

 

‘’You can sleep in my bed, if you want to rest properly, and I will sleep down here. There are no black out blinds down here, so it’s a bit shit to sleep on the sofa, even though it’s really comfy. The guest room is full of crap at the moment, we never use it since we don’t have au pairs anymore..’’

 

‘’Even, the sofa is fine. Go to bed. You are talking a load of shit.’’

 

Teacher Isak is back. Work mode on. Safe territory. Minus the swear words. But then this is Even, who is probably not even taking in what Isak is saying right now, his eyes blinking heavily between every sentence.

 

‘’Please stay. We can talk properly when I am awake. I just need a few hours. Please.’’

‘’I’ll stay.’’  Isak says. He’s not sure if he means it. I mean. He’s right here. In Even’s house. Whilst Even gets up and takes a few steps towards the hallway.

 

‘’Thank you.’’ Even whispers.

 

Then he’s gone.

  


Isak doesn't know how long he sits there, staring out the window without actually seeing a thing. His head full of slow moving foam, like a grey matter dulling everything he’s trying to make sense of.

 

It’s not like this in books and movies. It’s never been like this in Isak’s experience with people. You kind of kiss. Laugh. Snog and fuck. Then fuck some more. Then fuck it up and it all goes to hell.

 

But what the hell is he doing here? Sitting on this damn sofa when he knows full well that Even is probably lying in his bed wide awake whilst his head is churning with worries, wondering what he just let happen. Because Even doesn’t half talk a load of shite when he’s tired, and Isak actually has a little laugh thinking about it all. Maybe he’s not such a mess of an idiot himself, because Even is far worse on the verbal diarrhea front. And right now Even is probably willing himself to sink through that mattress of his, dying in shame for once again spilling a truckload of emotional twattery all over Isak. Thinking that he has said too much, or too little. Because right now Isak doesn't belong on this oversized sofa, with the coffee table full of stale crumbs and brown circles left by overflowing coffee cups. He doesn’t belong here at all.

 

In the end he thinks fuck it. He knows what he should do. He should go home. Leave a polite note for Even and put things back to the way they should be. Professional. Friendly. Zero Drama.

 

So, he gets up and lets his feet carry him back past the kitchen, the table still half covered in groceries. He walks past the open bathroom door, a towel thrown carelessly on the floor.

 

He should leave, letting his feet slip back into his trainers by the front door, but instead he walks up the staircase, one soft footfall at a time, letting his head lean across the door-frame to the right. An office of some sort. Papers and files open on the desk. The blind half open.

 

The doorway to the left is bathed in darkness, the door left just slightly ajar. There is a faint outline of a body resting on its side, covered with a blanket. Even has not even bothered getting undressed, the checked pattern of his shirt clearly visible on his arm, where he has just landed his body on top of the bed. Drawn the blanket haphazardly over his shoulder.

 

He might not belong in this house. But right now he knows exactly where he wants to be. So he sits down on the edge of the bed, letting his legs swing carefully up to rest on the mattress. His head landing softly on the pillow, catching a faint whiff of sleep and washing powder that lingers in the air.

 

He moves in before he loses his bravery. Lines his body up around Even. Knees behind his legs. Stomach against his back. Arm curling carefully around the waist. Nose right into the soft curls at the nape of Even’s neck.

 

He might not belong in this house. But right now, he belongs right here.

  



	24. Humør

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeg er så glad i grunnen  
> og visste det ei før;  
> det er som jeg har funnen  
> en venn, der var forsvunnen,  
> mitt prektige humør.  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for posting and then un-posting this afternoon. The first 7 comments were all saying WTF is wrong with the timeline? So I kind of took the hint. It was a mess. It still is a mess, but it kind of has to work anyway, with a few minor adjustments 
> 
> This takes place the same morning as Isak comes to Even's house. Just a little earlier, as the boys get up to go to school and finishes off in the late afternoon when Isak and Even have kind of slept all day curled up on top of Even's bed. Hope that clarifies things.

The same day....

 

I was fine this morning. Absolutely fine. I’m still fine. Damn fine.

I’m sitting on the bus home with my boyfriend (I love saying that in my head. My boyfriend.) next to me. His head on my shoulder. His little finger hooked around the pinkie on my opposite hand. It’s just something small that nobody else can see, but it makes me insanely happy. And calm. I’m so freaking calm that I should probably freak out about it. On a Friday afternoon. After school. Like you do.

 

I woke up this morning with a mouthful of hair in between my lips, and Matteo drooling on my chest. Like this is our thing now. He sleeps kind of nuzzled into my armpit with his arm around my waist. Whilst I snore into his hair with my arms over my head. I would love to put a mirror on the ceiling so I can see what we look like, all tangled up like one crazy octopus. Arms and legs everywhere.

 

I love it. I love that he turned up sweaty and smelly from his Theatre practice last night. That he snuck into the bathroom and had a shower before crawling into my bed. Snuggling into me and waking me up with little kisses. Nudging me awake with that boner of his quite blatantly bruising my thigh. Which of course lit me up like a bloody Christmas display. Cock on full alert, balls straining, and my mouth whining like a kid that he was once again wearing clothes in bed. We don't do clothes in bed baby. No clothes. Just skin. You and me.

 

It’s funny how my life has changed so drastically in just a few days. How I used to wake up to the quiet sounds of the world outside my window, and now I wake up to the sound of his breath. His chest rising and falling against me. His cock that twitches in his sleep.

 

He’s just like me. We are so alike it’s both frightening and comforting in some kind of weird way. Like now when we both sit here in silence and just exist.

I kind of drift off and think back to this morning, my cheeks heating up at the memories. Because it’s not even something I think about, the way my hand reaches for him inside his briefs when we lie in bed. The way my fingers stroke the smooth skin covering his hard dick. I know what I like, how i like my foreskin to be touched. Not that I really know what I am doing, but I keep thinking, if it feels good to me, then it should at least feel a little good to him. And he’s was whimpering a little under my touch, snuffling into my armpit as I gripped him properly. Smooth strokes up and down. His dick responding nicely, just as I was hoping whilst he humped a little in his still half awake state. Because this morning was hot as hell, and i have it kind of memorized at the back of my head. Word for word. Thought by thought. Filed away under secret wanking material of course.

 

_I’m wondering if I should. If I dare. I mean what if he tastes bad? But then he smells all yummy and clean everywhere else, so I can’t even in my wildest dreams imagine that the taste of him on my tongue wouldn't be horny as fuck. Seriously._

 

Yeah, I had actually thought that this morning, whilst my boyfriend was naked in bed with me. I mean? _  
_

 

_It’s just he hasn't made any attempt to put his mouth anywhere near my cock, however much I wave it around in his face. It should be classed as a crime against humanity. Well at least against my cock, because his mouth is just the most perfect thing in the world and Matteo of all people, the cockiest funniest man in the world, seems almost shy when we get going. Like he doesn't dare to really let go, and then when he finds his groove, he kind of jerks all over the place and shoots all over my stomach. Then he just pants and smiles at me and kisses my mouth and calls me Pumpkin. When all I want to do is scream for him to do more. To talk dirty to me and fucking stick that cock down my throat and fuck my mouth like they do in porn. Which would probably end up with me having a panic attack and Matteo never daring to go anywhere near me again._

_Anyway I kind of decide to be brave, here and now. Because Matteo is still kind of half way in sleep mode, and probably won’t want to stop once I get there. Hopefully. Because come on. It’s a blow job. Well an attempt at one. Which might end up with nothing but me kissing his stomach or whatever._

_I still do it. Kiss down his chest. Chickening out a little bit, and giving him a few little kisses on his face. On his mouth. Dragging his top lip into my mouth and tugging a little. Biting gently. Just to nudge him awake. Let him know I mean business._

_Well that seems to work because he whimpers and drags his shirt over his head. Shimmies out of the damn briefs he insists on wearing, whilst I suck his lips into my mouth. Devour him. Try to eat him whole. It’s just mesmerizing having him at my mercy like this, the way he throws his arms out in surrender, almost like he gives me permission to do whatever I want to him._

_It makes me brave again, and I kiss back down over his shoulder. Nudge my nose into his chest whilst the tip of my tongue flicks over a hardened nipple. Yup. He likes that, because his hips arch off the bed, and my palm lands on his stomach pushing him back down. No humping. Not right now._

_I lick lines over his stomach. Kiss the little patterns on his skin. Lay my cheek against his heartbeat before my knees move further down, and my body starts to slide off the bed._

_I should have thought this through, but I suppose I can quite happily get him off, kneeling on whatever rubbish my knee has landed on, and there is a fucking pack of socks that I kick to the side so I can get comfortable. Then I grab his hips and pull him down towards me. One swift movement that makes him whoop in surprise. Smiling as he drags a pillow down and puts it under his head. His eyes on mine. Kind of saying. Come on then. Give me your best._

_Which gives me performance anxiety big time. Fuck._

_‘’Can you kind of not look?’’ I squeal out._

_‘’Not look when I am about to get the first blowjob of my pathetic 17 ½ year old life? Of course I want to look.’’ He smiles back. The fucker._

_I kind of scramble back up on the bed, grabbing a pillow which I shove over his head._

_‘’Don’t look. Just let me get the hang of it first.’’ I sound like my Dad. Like I’m about to give him a rectal exam with the bottle-of-shame that I have conveniently hidden in the drawer under the bed._

_He mumbles something from under the pillow, and his stomach is jerking so he is obviously fitting with giggles up there but at least it’s just me and his cock down here._

_He’s rock hard. A pearl of liquid seeping at the top. And then there is me, just staring at it. Like I’m expected to introduce myself or something. Yo Matteo’s cock. Fancy meeting my mouth?_

_I kind of grimace and my face is flushed with embarrassment. I should never have done this._

_‘’Just do it. Don’t think about it, because I will fucking come the minute you go anywhere near him.’’ Matteo pants from up the bed._

_‘’It’s a him then?’’ I tease. Because I’m shit scared. Because I’m the most pathetic boyfriend in the world. ‘’Does he have a name?’’_

_‘’MrBig?’’ Matteo chuckles out. ‘’No no, honestly, he hasn't got a name. I’m just taking the piss Pumpkin. Come on, just do something before I freak out and jerk myself off right in front of you.’’_

_‘’That might be hot’’ I squeal and tug at myself. Because Matteo talking dirty is kind of hot. Major hot._

_‘’Come on Pumpkin, I’m dying here’’ He whines and whilst I am actually dying myself. Fuck. I’m the worst Gay human being on the planet. I have the most perfect cock in front of me, which should make my mouth water, but instead my throat is constricting with fear._

_So I kind of hide my face in his groin. Bury my nose in his pubes which is like. Fuck. Heavenly. He smells completely different down here. Strong and masculine and my cock twitches again. Coarse hair against my cheek. His hardness bouncing against the tip of my nose as I find myself kissing his ball. Testicle. Against my lips. And OK. This is cool. This is actually damn fine._

_My tongue seems to find it’s own mind as I lick him. Paint lines up and down his dick, whilst he twists around and kicks out with his legs to the point that I have to grip his hips and hold him down before my eyes get poked out by that weapon of mass destruction between his legs.. Because now he is leaking all over the shop. Clear fluid trailing down the side of his dick that I reach out and taste. Just on the tip of my tongue but damn._

_Cock is obviously like crack. Like why the whole world is not into cock is now beneath me, because he tastes like nothing else. Salty and sweet and a little bitter, and there it is. I am now lapping at his slit whilst he is talking a load of dirty shit up where his head is. Not that I care because now his cock is kind of in my mouth. I’m sucking on it. On his cock. Well at the head of it whilst my hands are trying to keep his hips i place and my head is bobbing up and down, twisting around trying to get my tongue to reach every part of him. The flavour of him increasing every time I come off, letting a little drool land back on his skin. He’s nice and wet and my hand grabs him at the base whilst I nuzzle back into his balls and Matteo protests loudly up there, something along the lines of ‘’gettin’ it back in my mouth’’ Along with some choice words. Damn. My boyfriend can talk._

_My boyfriend. Fuck him. He’s amazing. Oh fuck just look at him. His eyes squeezed shut whilst his face is all scrunched up and there we go. More words. Head rolling from side to side. His hair all sweaty at his temples and I don’t know what is turning me on more, the fact that I am driving him crazy with my cocksucking skills (Yup. I think I might have skills) or that I have his cock back on my tongue, the weight of it making me a little dizzy._

_He starts panting out that he’s about to shoot, tugging at my hair, trying to get me off him. Which of course I won’t let him, because I’m all in on this now. If I’m doing this, I’m damn well doing it properly. Which means that I  smile smugger than anything (well as much as I can smile with a mouthful of cock) as he pretty much arches his whole body off the bed and starts to shoot warm saltyness down my throat._

_Now this is the part when I swallow like a pro, licking my lips and looking all hot and seductive like those blokes in porn. Except that this is real life and my boyfriends cock is fucking big and my mouth is probably not made for porn because of course I choke on it and get a freaking coughing fit, sputtering spunk all over his stomach as I gasp for breath and my eyes are streaming and I think I just sunk a load of his spunk down my airways, because I’m fucking dying here. Whilst Matteo is absolutely pissing himself with laughter._

_‘’Oh my God Pumpkin’’ he squeals. ‘’Oh Jaysus F Christ. Are you alright?’’_

_His hands are holding my face. Fingers trying to wipe my eyes, whilst he is planting crazy ass kisses all over my face. No doubt getting a mouthful of his own jizz in the process. I mean, this. I’m fucked. Forget skills, because I obviously have none._

_‘’Pumpkin.’’ He says. Trying to look all stern and serious whilst kind of crying with laughter. ‘’You just blew more than my dick babes. I mean, I knew you were sexy as hell but that. Fucking lord have mercy and all that, If you think I am just gonna be your boyfriend after that, you are seriously mistaken. You can do that to me anytime. Just say the word and I will drop my pants. I mean it. I’m marrying you, straight up. If that’s how you suck someone off, then I am putting a ring on it right now. You are never doing that to anyone else.’’_

_‘’Breathe baby’’ I have to stop him. He hasn’t taken a single breath for the last minute. Too much talking when I can barely breathe myself._

_‘’Breathing.’’ He confirms and takes another deep breath for show. ‘’You’re not panicking are you? You OK? My future husband and king-of-blow-jobs?’’_

_‘’The king-of-blow-jobs just choked on your dick thanks. But I’m good. Practice makes perfect.’’ I kind of croak out. In between giggling, Because he’s not covering himself up. He’s just sitting there, stark naked laughing at me and I’m kind of drinking him in. Trying to memorize this, the shape of his abs. How his biceps form a nice little curve into his elbow. The muscles on his stomach, where the skin just sags a tiny bit as he leans forward._

_‘’I love you’’ I say. Because now I’m getting all emo, and my boner has kind of fucked off somewhere and I just want to lie down and cuddle and hold onto him._

_‘’I know.’’ He smiles. Then he jumps off the bed and I get an eyeful of his naked arse. Oh fuck I’m done for. I kind of want to drag him back here right now so I can sink my teeth into his buttcheek. Nuzzle into his hip. Fold myself around him and go back to sleep for an hour._

_‘’Damn. It’s 7.18. Bus leaves when?’’ He’s twirling around in a circle trying no doubt trying to find his pants._

_‘’7.48. We’ll make it. ‘’ Yeah, as long as he stays well away from me and doesn't kiss me. Because that would take a good few minutes and I still need to grab some bananas from the kitchen and I could do with coffee. Please let there be coffee in the cupboard._

_‘’Socks baby’’ I say and hurl the pack from the floor at him. ‘’From Dad, he said he bought you socks?’’ Fuck knows why. But whatever. If that’s his kink?_

_Whilst Matteo has gone all emo in the corner kind of stroking a pair of Co-op own brand family value sports socks in his hand. Like they are precious or something._

_‘’Your Dad is nice.’’ He says quietly as he pulls a brilliant white sock over his foot._

_‘’He’s alright.’’ I reply and sneak out the door._

_The coffee machine is empty so I load it as fast as I can, then brush my teeth over the kitchen sink whilst trying to find the travel cup I usually bring when I can’t be bothered to eat. Even though I know I should eat. Keep myself stable and sensible with slow release carbohydrates. I shove a mouthful of banana in my face and almost want to cry, because now I can’t taste him on my tongue anymore, the saltiness dulled out by toothpaste and fruit._

_‘’Is there enough for me?’’ he asks from behind, his rucksack slung over his shoulder. The stupid idiot._

_‘’Would I make myself coffee and not make enough for you? What kind of future husband do you think I am?’’ I tease whilst he sneaks in a kiss._

_‘’A gorgeous one’’ he whispers back. Then he rummages through his rucksack which honestly is full of crap. Clothes and papers and totally random things like a battered travel mug which I grab from his outstretched hand._

_‘’I loved what we did, you know, this morning.’’ He says from under his fringe. Wrapping his arms around my waist whilst I try to fill our cups with coffee._

_‘’I’m shit at it, but with a little more practice…’’ I start but he puts his hand over my mouth. Kisses my cheek._

_‘’You were amazing, and I was a selfish twat because you didn't get to come. Pumpkin, you are going to get one hell of a blowjob tonight when we get back here.’’_

_He’s a tease. Because all he needs to do is whisper little promises in my ears and I’m now sporting a semi in my jeans._

_‘’Stay the weekend?’’ I’m not asking. I’m telling._

_‘’Your Dad is going to get pissed off if I’m here all the time.’’_

_‘’My Dad loves you more than he loves me. My Dad will feed you and make you sit and watch crap on TV with him and probably cry if you try to leave’’_

_He will as well. The wanker. Even though he has been better lately. Less annoying, and I suppose stalking my teacher is keeping him occupied and out of my hair. Which is good. I should get him to up his game. Go stand outside Isak’s door and sing badly to him or something, because that is one epic love story him and Isak have going on, and Isak might not know it but my Dad is one hell of a stubborn shit when he wants something._

_‘’OK?’’ Fuck he’s gorgeous when he smiles. I wonder if I will ever get tired of seeing him smile._

_‘’Cool.’’ I say. I mean it. It’s more than cool._

 

I check my phone again. No more texts from Dad apart from the ones I sent this morning on the bus to school:

 

**Dad, Matteo is staying the weekend. WE FUCKING NEED FOOD. Can you get some stuff to make Tacos? I can cook, but we have like nothing to make Tacos with. Apart from chilli sauce.**

 

**Just off shift, will do a big shop on the way home. Is there anything else YOUR FUCKING HIGHNESS requires?**

 

**Can you get some ice cream? Like the real stuff, not the coconut soy shite.**

 

**You like the coconut soy ice cream.**

 

**Yeah, but I’m trying to keep my boyfriend. If anyone tried to woo me with soy ice cream I would run away. Screaming.**

 

**True. What flavour?**

 

**That vanilla stuff with flaky chocolate bits in. And licorice. Not the grey stuff, the one with the licorice saucy bits all between the vanilla?**

 

**Now we're talking. Fuck. I need Licorice ice cream for breakfast. Good choice. Can I insist on a side of strawberries?**

**Whatever Dad.**

 

**Have a good day at school kiddo. Love you.**

 

I was fine this morning, and strangely I am still absolutely fine. It’s an unfamiliar feeling this, being happy. I’m happy. Matteo is happy. We’re so fucking happy it’s making my head spin.  

 

And school was surprisingly. Fine. I drifted off in class more than once, and my thoughts betrayed me after Norwegian, causing my body to curl into a ball in the back stall of the B-block toilets. I didn’t panic though. I don't know how or why but I breathed through it. Deep and slow whilst my fingers tapped furiously on Matteo’s contact details on the phone in my hand. I felt a bit stupid when he picked up, because just hearing his voice made me cry. I just sobbed quietly into the receiver whilst he smooth-talked me back into some kind of sense. He was in gym class, hiding in a corner talking to me through a symphony of bouncing basketballs and shouts and screams, but I kept breathing. Smiling. Wiping my face on the sleeve of my hoodie, thinking I was a total flake. Well it’s true. I am. He still loves me. He kept telling me and kept asking if I wanted him to come to me, because he would. He said he would walk out of class right there and then and fuck the PE teacher if she dared take his 6 away from him. Because I’m important. I’m more important than anything else. Fuck him. Because after that I was sobbing again even though he made me laugh through it all.

 

He hugged the shit out of me at the end of the day, when I found him in the cafeteria. And I hugged the shit out of him right back. Then he held my hand all the way to the bus stop, tangling his fingers in mine and talking a load of nonsense that I could barely comprehend since I am too busy looking at his lips and keeping my boner under control. My boyfriend is damn fine. My boyfriend. He’s mine.

 

Turns out that my Dad is not completely useless as the kitchen table is full of useful ingredients. He has shopped. Thank God. Turns out my boyfriend can cook too. Fuck me I’m a lucky bastard. He’s now standing in my kitchen, chopping onions and singing along to some musical number on Spotify, whilst I’m frying mince in the pan. We’re making a mess. But whatever. There is going to be food. And blowjobs. He has promised. And my cock is planning on cashing in.

 

I get a quick kiss on the cheek as he passes me to go to the bathroom to wash his hands, since we have kind of blocked the kitchen sink with lettuce and shit. He says it’s to 'crispen it up' whatever that means. Whatever.

 

‘’Pumpkin?’’ He calls from the hallway and I back out to check what he’s up to now. Probably tricking me into some prank.

 

Instead he is standing there staring at the bloke standing frozen in the doorway to the bathroom. Staring at us like we are bloody murderers.

 

Yeah. Because here he is. Isak Valtersen. My teacher. And Matteo’s. The love of my Dad’s life, with his clothes all twisted and wrinkled, angry red sleep lines on his cheek, looking like he is trying to sneak out without us noticing. Yeah, and the dude has GUILTY written all over his face.

 

Which is not on. Fuck this. You mess with my Dad, you answer to me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny hiatus as I need to do real life stuff over the weekend. Back Tuesday. Promise xxx


	25. Livet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Men livet består ikke av ord. Livet består av realiteter.  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To tie this together you are getting all 3 POV in one little mess of a chapter. With visuals. Because I'm kinda into all that shit. 
> 
> Thank you for all reading along and bearing with me through the ups and downs of managing real life versus fic writing. Thank you for all the love kudos comments encouragement and criticism. I appreciate it all, without you talking to me I would not write a single word, so thank you for pushing me along. xxxx

‘’Where’s Dad?’’ I snarl. I can’t help it. If Isak is here, Dad needs to be here. I can’t do this on my own.

 

‘’Why is he here?’’ Matteo looks really confused. Staring at Isak holding his hands up in the air, then staring at me. Then Isak. Like he is trying to figure it all out.

 

‘’He’s my Dad’s boyfriend.’’ I say. Provocative, I know. Fuck you Isak.

 

‘’WHAT?’’ Matteo shrieks and then he is laughing. ‘’Your Dad’s gay too? Fuck you.’’

 

‘’My Dad’s Pan.’’ I sound calmer than I feel. Because the sound of waves is on a loop in my ears and I need someone to rescue me or this is all going to end up with me in a ball on the floor and Isak running out the door.

 

‘’Why is he leaving? He was leaving? He’s been here all this time?’’ Matteo makes no sense at all. But then he doesn't know the full story. I don't even know why I haven't told him. I suppose I just haven't had time. It just hasn't been my priority to fill my boyfriend in on my Dad’s pathetic love life.

 

‘’I wasn’t leaving.’’ Isak says. His voice is strong, yet not as calm as he seems on the outside. His mouth is twitching. Like he is trying to get his teacher mode back on but not quite managing too.

 

‘’You were leaving. Doing the walk of shame. Shag and run.’’  Matteo is a little shit.

 

‘’Shut it babes.’’ I say. Then mouth ‘’Sorry’’ because Matteo now looks crushed, still with onion crap on his hands.

 

‘’Where is Dad?’’ I repeat, trying to swallow down the panic in my chest. I need Dad. I need Matteo. I need Isak to just disappear. Well only long enough so I can get myself back under control.

 

‘’Still sleeping.’’ Isak says and crosses his arms over his chest.

‘’So why were you sneaking out?’’ I’m gasping for breath now. Wheezing with every word.

 

‘’He’s not well, Isak. Get his Dad. Look at me Pumpkin. Just breathe. Deep breaths. Look at me’’ Matteo is all over me, hands around my face. Whilst Isak is taking a few steps towards the stairs.

 

‘’I’m OK.’’ I almost shout. ‘’Stay’’. I am pointing at Isak. Who is frozen on the steps.

 

‘’I wasn't trying to leave, I just needed to take a piss. I need to get your Dad up, he only wanted to sleep for a few hours.’’ Isak’s eyes are a little wild. Flickering between Matteo and me. He’s scared. Almost as scared as me.

 

‘’Yes you were. You have ‘walk of shame’ ’ written all over your face.’’ Matteo has his arms around me now, almost like he is trying to protect me whilst I am panting into his cheek. I’m not panicking. Yet I am. But I’m not. Because Matteo is here and the smell of him is wrapping around me like a blanket, yet that bloody Isak has his defenses up so high that he’s terrifying me. Which is not like him. Isak is nice. Isak is always calm. Isak doesn't take any shit. He definitely doesn't take any shit from Matteo and me.

 

‘’Look you two. I know this is awkward as fuck, but please let me deal with Even, and don’t start stirring up shit that you know nothing about.’’

 

‘’He’s my Dad, and he’s not made of stone you know.’’ I sound like a dork but whatever. ‘’Don’t mess with him Isak.’’

 

This is when I wish I was 6 feet tall and full of muscle, so I could just stand here and stare him down until he crumbles and cries. But I’m not. I’m skinny and hopeless, breathing far too fast and I can barely survive these days without Matteo holding me up. Which he is now. His arms in a protective circle around me like I am a child. Well a kid with breathing troubles.

 

‘’I’m getting your Dad.’’ Isak says. He looks a bit pale.

 

‘’I’m fine.’’ I hiss. I’m not.

 

‘’Breathe Pumpkin.’’ Matteo whispers. His eyes on me. He doesn’t even give Isak a second glance.

 

I can hear Isak’s footsteps up the stairs behind me as I sink to the floor. Waves crashing into me from every angle. Cold water running through my veins. Ice encrusting my brain to the point that I can’t even think clearly. I don’t know why Matteo is still here, how he still holds onto me. How he loves me this much.

 

Because there are warm soft kisses being pressed to my forehead. My temples. His hands around my face holding my body upright. I need to breathe. That’s what he is telling me. Breathe Pumpkin. Breathe with me. Nice and slow.

 

I can’t feel my fingers. Or my toes, they are just static tingling things that seem removed from my body. My hands aching with the lack of oxygen in my limbs. Too much carbon dioxide swirling around in my system when I hyperventilate like this. I try to lick my lips but my tongue is bone dry. My throat constricting.

 

Then my Dad is there, placing his arm around my stomach, shouting for Isak to get a paper bag from the hat rack by the door. He keeps a stack there so I can always grab one when I leave the house. Always prepared. My Dad.

 

‘’You are doing fine Pumpkin.’’ Matteo whispers. Stroking my cheek. Not even letting go, sandwiching me in between himself and Dad.

 

I sit there on the floor, a pathetic waste of a person. I can’t even look after myself. I’m 17 years old and I am sitting on my Dad’s lap on the hallway floor breathing into a paper bag with my boyfriend stroking my hair. My face. Trailing the side of my neck. Soft strokes over my fisted up fingers. Any piece of skin he can reach outside my clothes.

 

‘’I should go’’ Isak says. I grasp that bit, with the roar of the sea still deafening in my ears.

 

‘’Stay’’ I try to shout.

 

‘’Don’t go’’ Dad says. His voice sounds so sad. I did that. I fucked it up, again. Me me me.

 

‘’You need to calm him down, I’ll ring you later. ‘’ Isak is toeing his shoes on. I can kind of see it in the corner of my vision. Not that I can see much through the tears. Yeah. I’m crying now as well. Fuck my life.

 

‘’FUCK’’ Matteo screams. ‘’Dinner is on fire.’’

 

Well that makes Isak move his arse. In the right direction. Because he disappears into the kitchen with Matteo hot on his heels whilst my arms are flaying in the air trying to keep Matteo with me. I’m so fucking needy. Me me me.

 

Yeah, then there is more shouting. More screaming. Matteo hurling abuse at Isak. Isak calling Matteo names. Or maybe he’s calling the dinner names. I don’t know how I didn't notice before but now the air is full of the acrid stench of burning and the scraping of utensils and there’s some laughter. Which makes Dad squeeze his arms tight around me. Like he has been holding his breath the whole time.

 

‘’I think it’s OK.’’ He says. Calmly. ‘’They’re laughing so it must be OK.’’

 

No, I think. Nothing is OK. Because I fucking ruin everything.

  
  


Even should be thrilled. He should be smiling from ear to ear, but he can’t. His son is his priority, and he has obviously let things slide. He should have put a stop to all this, because there has been so much change in too little time and he should have seen this coming. His son doesn't cope well with stress, or changes in his environment. His anxiety peaks around new people, and situations he can’t easily control.

 

Even is a shit father, because all he has been thinking about is himself, when he should have concentrated on moving Max through the pitfalls and hurdles of negotiating a new relationship. His first romantic involvement, something that will hurt and bruise if not tread carefully. Even knows, because his own first love almost destroyed both of them.

 

Because Isak is skittish like a frightened bird, and Even doesn't even know how to cope with his own erratic feelings, let alone the fragile boy in his arms.

 

‘’We need a new packet of mince.’’ Isak’s voice is calm. Ish. He looks like there is nothing else he would rather do than run out the front door and never come back.

 

‘’Do we still have a kitchen?’’ Even is trying for humorous here. When all he wants to do is ask Isak to come sit down on the floor with them. Lay his head against Even’s shoulder and tell him it will be fine. That they can do this. That at least they can try.

 

‘’Yeah, and Matteo is scraping out the pan, we just need to do the mince again. I’ll go get some if you can just tell me where the nearest shop is?’’

 

Maybe that is what Isak needs? Just a brisk walk to clear his head? Is that what he is asking, or is this a way of running away and never talking to Even again?

 

‘’I can go’’ Even offers. Please stay. Please stay with me.

 

‘’Max needs you. Matteo has the rest under control.’’ Isak says, stepping back into the shoes by the door.

 

‘’Left on the main road, two blocks up, there is a Kiwi.’’ Even sounds as resigned as he feels. Like this is it. Like this is the end of the road.

 

‘’I’m only going to the shop.’’ Isak says. And there he is bending down next to the two of them. On the floor. Trying to calm them all down, because the tension in the air is so thick with anxiety that it’s no good to anyone. ‘’I’ll be back as soon as I can so we can get some grub into these kids.’’

 

‘’Stay for dinner. Please. I just need to talk to you, we can’t leave things like this.’’ Even wishes his voice was stronger. He wish he could be more honest. He wishes a lot of things.

 

‘’OK.’’ Isak says. Then he leans over. Places a small soft kiss on Even’s head and Even just wants to cry. Throw his arms around Isak and beg him to stay. To please please try. Because Even just needs someone on his team. Someone who will tell him all those things he needs to hear and hug him and reassure him he is not a complete failure at life. He needs someone to help with Max, because it’s just too much for him to handle on his own. He needs someone to help himself stay sane. He needs a lot of shit right now and it’s a lot to ask of Isak, who honestly hasn't signed up for any of this. Most of all he needs someone to hold him at night, when everything seems so damn hopeless.

 

His eyes never leave Isak’s back, closing only to let out a resigned sigh when the door slams shut behind him.

The air is too warm for Isak to think. And even though he slept all day he feels all fuzzy and confused. He can’t believe he slept all day. He never does. He doesn’t sleep well when he’s like this, rattled and antsy, when his stomach curls up with nerves and self doubt and constricts at the thought of food. He hasn’t eaten well over the last week. No wonder he’s a wreck. No wonder his body let itself shut down for a good couple of hours, because it probably needed it. And if Isak is very honest he needed the closeness too. It’s been a long time since Isak slept curled up with another warm body against him, and the memory of having Even so close makes him instinctively wrap his own arms around himself. Whilst walking. No doubt looking a little bit stupid walking down the road with a big shit eating grin on his face hugging his own arms.

 

But the thought makes him irrationally happy,  his head is full of images of sleeping next to Even, like that, only Isak prefers less clothes. And maybe under the duvet. Nice and warm, skin everywhere. Maybe lying with his head on Even’s chest and letting Even’s hands stroke his arms.

 

It’s not even the thought of sex that is the most attractive in Isak’s head. It’s the closeness. The intimacy, having someone take all your fears away by just holding you. No wonder the two of them had slept like logs all day, all snuggled up like a bunch of overgrown kittens.

He laughs out loud to himself as he walks through the door to the small shop, heading straight over to the chilled section where pathetic looking plastic containers of meat stare him in the face whilst his head is all over the place.

 

He’s already moved in, in his head. Imagining what it would be like coming home to that house after work, the sounds of the boys messing about in the kitchen, Even upstairs in his office. Isak grabbing a coffee and taking it upstairs, placing a cup next to Even and then burying his face in Even’s neck. Kissing the warm skin under his hairline and Even swirling around, still sat in his chair, until he is right there, his face buried in Isak’s stomach. Isak’s hand in Even’s hair. Even’s hands on Isak’s hips, tugging at his trousers. One button of his fly popping at a time as Even’s fingers work over the erection that is now kind of straining in his real life jeans.

 

He’s thinking of Sex. In the Kiwi.

 

His face is blooming pink as he pays for the mince, thinking he should probably grab some condoms. But then he shouldn't. He shouldn't assume, and he knows full well that if he is going to survive this intact, he needs to follow the rules he has drawn up with his therapist. No rash decisions. Don’t act on impulse. Take things slow and steady. Get to know the person before you even think of taking the next step. It sounds so damn sensible and dull in his head, no wonder his relationships go to shit. Because Isak wouldn’t date himself with those fucking rules thrown in his face. And Even. Even deserves more. Even who is so full of life and hope and his head is one big damn fairytale of impossible things that will never happen in real life, yet here Isak is galloping down the road like some desperate Prince Charming coming to the rescue of his dashing knight.

 

Because Isak runs back home. ‘Home’, He laughs at himself .Pathetic. He still takes the stairs in two double jumps, and opens the front door without ringing the doorbell. Well why should he?

 

‘’Mince’’ he states, a little out of breath.

 

Matteo is laying the table, and Max is sitting down cutting up strawberries like nothing is wrong with the world. He looks fine, maybe a little pale, but absolutely fine. Whilst Even looks like he is about to faint.

 

‘’Can I speak to you quickly?’’ he says to Even whilst tossing the mince at Matteo who at least looks like he knows what needs doing, the frying pan already back on the stove as he rips the top of the pack open and glares at Isak.

 

Even doesn’t say a word, just nods, but he does follow Isak into the living room. They need to be out of earshot of the boys, just for a minute. A little privacy so he can get this all out before he loses his damn nerve.

‘’I want this.’’ Isak says. His hands landing hard on Even’s shoulders. They are standing there, in front of the window, just staring at each other, Isak’s face serious, whilst Even’s mask of fear that made his forehead fill with worry lines, slowly changes into what now is a face full of dimples.

 

Then he says it again.

 

‘’I want this.’’

 

His voice is a little stronger now and he can’t wipe the smile off his face. Because Even. Even is Even and he looks so damn happy, with that smile on his face. His eyes that are the fucking kindest eyes in the world and makes Isak’s stomach all warm.

 

‘’I want us to try, and be a family of some kind, because fuck you Even, you make me dream things, and I can see this happening, and it being good. I think we could be happy, and I think if we just put everything that happened in the past behind us, and tried to start again, we could maybe get to know each other, and things could work out. If we tried really hard. Both of us. And I realize we need to think of Max and not dial up his anxieties.’’

 

He has to stop and breathe. In out. Whilst Even just smiles and his hands are not quite steady as he moves them up and lets the tips of his fingers stroke along Isak’s hips. Trailing the outline of his belt. Hooking his fingers in Isak’s belt loops.

 

‘’I think it would be amazing.’’ Even says quietly, like he can’t quite believe all those words just came tumbling out of Isak’s mouth. His fingers tugging gently at Isak until he is forced to step a little closer. Close. Whilst Isak can’t stop shaking. All his anxieties bubbling right there under the surface.

 

‘’Can I take you on a date?’’ Even says. He looks serious as well.

 

‘’Nah, that would be kind of embarrassing, and I would get all nervous, and.... Can we just kind of hang out? Here? No dressing up in fancy shit and trying to impress each other with things that just doesn't matter. I just want to be real. You and me.’’

 

‘’ You and me. No dates. Snuggles on the sofa with wine and a movie? Sounds like we are already an old married couple. ‘’ Even laughs.

 

‘’Two kids and a House. We’re practically married. Apartment in Kolsås too for those romantic weekends away. ‘’ Isak is joking. But he is not. He’s selling the bloody apartment and moving in here. Seriously.

 

‘’Sounds romantic. A little love nest in the suburbs. Are we getting a Volvo and a Dog too?’’

Even is being so fucking cute and Isak gives in. Wraps his arms hard around his shoulders. Kisses the skin on his neck. Breathes. Hard. In and out whilst his heart is jack-hammering in his chest.

 

‘’Yeah. A dog called Luke. After Luke Skywalker in Star Wars, and don’t tell me you don’t like Star Wars, because everyone likes Star Wars. Car wise I am more of an BMW man. German precision and all that.’’

 

‘’We need a big car for the kids and the Dog. Of course we like Star Wars. What do you take us for? We bought the box set like three times because they keep bringing out new films and releasing new ‘’complete’’ box sets. Madness.’’

 

‘’We’re having more kids?’’ Isak is smiling into Even’s neck. This is absurd. They are both talking a load of crap but the hugs are so good. Just standing here being held is like medicine for the soul. Yeah Isak’s head is now birthing fucking poetry but he can’t help it. He’s all giddy with Even. All of him.

 

‘’Well my first one has almost killed me several times over, the second one seems a good kid, so what harm could a third one do? You need to be a Dad Isak. It’s the best thing. The best and the worst. ‘’

 

‘’How much do you know about Matteo?’’ Isak almost whispers.

 

‘’I’ve got a friend in the police, who gave me the lowdown. Off the record of course, but apart from no criminal record and 14 different addresses in the last 5 years there was not much to tell. The kid is a ward of the state until he turns 18 and then he’s on his own. From what I can understand he has done well at school and seems to be streetwise and smart, but he's weary of being a burden to his friends and shit scared of being rejected. ‘’

 

‘’He’s an amazing kid.’’ Isak starts but then Max stands in the doorway. Arms crossed. Making Even raise his head from the where it was on Isak’s shoulder.

 

‘’Dinner is on the table unless you are gonna stand there and play tonsil hockey all day.’’ he snarls and walks off.

 

‘’Tonsil hockey?’’ Isak sputters and Even just sighs and leans back in like he just needs a little more. One more minute of this. Just being held.

 

‘’Kids. Scrap that. We’re not having anymore. You can have mine. BOTH of them. All yours. Take them.’’

 

‘’Idiot.’’ Isak smiles. He means it. What kind of idiot would take on all this shit?

 

Well him apparently. Fuck it. He holds on a little tighter. Arms around Even’s back, and his nose back in the safety of Even’s neck.

 

Safety. He can’t even think that he has put the word together in the same sentence as Even. Even was never safe, yet here he is. Holding onto him and breathing in the scent of him whilst Even’s hands are drawing lazy circles on his back. He wonders what has changed so drastically that he now stands here and hopes there can be more. That there will be kisses and little touches. Hand holding and easy hugs. Laughter and friendship and falling asleep with someone who loves you. Someone who loves you as much as you love them. Someone who loves you back. Someone like Even.

 

‘’Let’s go eat.’’ Even whispers.

 

And all Isak can do is nod.


	26. Familie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> En familie som holder sammen, er uovervinnelig.  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

 

He still smiles as he sits down at the table where plates of chopped up vegetables are neatly arranged in small bowls. Spicy mince in a frying pan and warm taco shells that Max is carefully arranging in what looks like a bread basket. Or the remains of one.

 

‘’The breadbasket doesn't microwave very well Dad. I think it’s died.’’ Max mutters.

 

‘’At least we didn’t put it on fire Pumpkin.’’ Matteo laughs, but it’s kind, his hand stroking gently over Max’s cheek as he passes by, placing a bowl of guacamole on the table.

 

‘’You made this?’’ Even almost shrieks staring at the creamy green mush in the bowl. Like he has never seen the stuff before.

 

‘’Yeah? It’s really simple. I’ll show you. Sorry I used up all the avocados, I can replace them. ‘’

 

‘’Matteo.’’ Even says, letting his hands sink down on the table. ‘’You don’t have to replace things you eat here. We all need to eat.’’

 

‘’Yeah, but I don’t live here. It’s not my things to use.’’ He says it like it’s the truth. Like this is how he sees life, and to be honest it makes Even want to scoop him up in a hug and squeeze him until he sees what Even sees. Which he can barely explain to himself right now, with Isak sitting opposite him at the table, smiling at him like he is trying to figure everything out.

 

‘’Look can we all sit down for a second so I can say something.’’ he starts. Because things have to be said, and right now he doesn't quite know how. Or what. For fucks sake.

‘’I think we should make this tradition, Like a family thing.’’ Max says. Sticking a nacho in his mouth and chewing loudly whilst he continues talking. ‘’Every Friday we do taco’s and sit down and eat. Like a family.’’

‘’I’m up for that, i freaking love this stuff.’’ That’s Matteo, loading his plate.

‘’What did you want to say Even?’’ Isak tries, clearly trying to help. Because no one listens to Even apparently. ‘’Fuck Matteo this guacamole is awesome.’’ Yeah, Isak isn’t listening to Even either because he is doing some kind of orgasmic face and now everyone is staring at him giggling quietly.

‘’Loads of garlic, and Creme Fraiche. We’re lucky we are all kissing each other because we will all bloody reek of it later.’’

‘’You are good Matteo’’ Isak continues. ‘’Who taught you to cook?’’

‘’Taught myself. Well, I really liked home economics in year 9, and we had a nice teacher who let me borrow her cookbooks. I used to take them home and read them, cover to cover, trying to memorize recipes. I didn't get much chance to try them out, but when I moved into this place where I am now I sometimes try to cook stuff, but I don’t have like all the spices and stuff.’’

 

What is it with teenagers and talking with their mouths full of food? Even thinks and puts his fork back down on the table. Looking at the bunch of misfits stuffing their faces around the rickety flea market bargain of a kitchen table. It’s not even straight, leaning slightly to one side. He has meant to fix it since he bought the damn thing but has never really figured out how.

 

Still everyone is reaching across plates, passing bowls and loading up more food whilst the sound of chewing and the crunch of tortilla shells fills the air.

‘’Can I speak?’’ Even tries again.

‘’Were listening Dad.’’ Max mutters.

‘’We are family.’’ Even starts. ‘’I want us all to be a family, and I want it to start now. Which includes you Matteo, and don’t look so shocked kiddo, because Taco Fridays is now your job. We all need to bring something to this if it’s gonna work, because Max and I have been on our own for so long, and and we will need to figure this out. ‘’

‘’I can’t afford to buy all the ingredients like this, but I could make a simpler version maybe.’’ Matteo isn't even looking up from his plate now. His shoulders hunched down.

‘’Kiddo’’ Even starts. But then he wants to cry. What kind of fucked up world has this kid lived in where he feels he has to take responsibility for every fucking aspect of his life, down to paying for every scrap of food he puts in his mouth? It makes Even furious. That this kid has so little, when someone should have given him the world. ‘’Look, I didn't mean that you pay for it. I meant you cook it. I’m the one who works full time here to look after my kids, and that includes you. You just turn up and put it all together, and then we all eat. That is how it’s going to work. OK? Maybe you can give me a list of ingredients you need for things you like cooking? We could make a menu for each week and figure out who cooks when if were all home?’’

‘’Matteo has Theatre during the week, but I can cook one night when were all here? Just not after therapy, because I get tired and I would burn everything.’’ Even almost falls off his chair. The kid just offered to cook. Not that he doubts he can, because he knows Max has the basics. They used to cook together, when he was younger. Before they got lazy and lost the plot.

‘’I can cook too.’’ Isak says, and god damn, he’s blushing. Like he doesn't quite dare to believe he belongs in this conversation.

‘’We need a calendar or something’’ Max says, taking another big bite of food, sauce dripping down his chin.’’So we know who is here which night, and how many are eating.’’

‘’Good thinking kid.’’ Even smiles. This is going well.

‘’So you are OK with me being here sometimes too?’’ Isak tries. He does. Whilst Max looks totally indifferent and shrugs his shoulders.

‘’As long as you’re not an arse to Dad, then it’s chill.’’

‘’Max!’’ Even almost shouts. ‘’Don’t be rude.’’

‘’It’s OK.’’ Isak sighs. ‘’Max you and I make a deal. We both look after your Dad, and we both make an effort to not being an arse to each other, and this will be totally chill. ‘’

‘’What happens at school then?’’ Max has a big grin on his face. Like he’s up to no good. ‘’Can I call you Dad in class?’’

Matteo almost chokes on his food, whilst Max is grinning like a 3-year-old. And Isak has gone bright red.

‘’I’m not here to be your Dad Max, and for now you and I are going to be completely civil at school. I haven't quite figured out how I’m going to play this, but I need to go and see the headmaster and let him know that I am seeing your Dad, because it will look really unprofessional if I don't preempt any conflicts of interest.’’

‘’Why would you need to do that?’’ Matteo sounds genuinely interested. And maybe a little concerned.

‘’Because someone might say that I am giving you or Max special treatment since you are family.’’

‘’Hedda’s Dad works at Nissen? I’ve never heard anyone say anything about that?’’ Max is actually holding a conversation. A normal conversation. Even is impressed.

‘’He’s the German teacher.’’ Matteo fills in, as Even looks a bit lost.

‘’Does Hedda do German?’’ Isak asks.

‘’Nah’’ Max shakes his head. ‘’She’s in my French class.’’

‘’See?’’ Isak looks almost relieved. ‘’No conflict of interest. So as long as were all honest and up front I’m sure it will be fine. Just don’t call me Dad, because that would be weird.’’ Isak’s face is all scrunched up in a grimace.

‘’OK Dad.’’ Max teases, his face full of mischief. ‘’I think you should be Dad. Dad. Dad one and Dad two.’’ He’s behaving like a kid again. Whilst Matteo just laughs.

‘’I’m Isak’’ Isak sounds stern. Definitely back in Teacher mode. ‘’We’re family but I’m still Isak. Get used to it.’’

‘’But I’m not?’’ Matteo tries but Isak cuts him off. ‘’We’re eating dinner together. Like a family. If it looks like a family then let’s call it a family. What will probably happen is that I will end up not teaching either of you next year, but that doesn't mean that I won't support you, because you can come and see me anytime at school. I mean that, I am there for you, and if you need help outside school I will always be there too. I mean that boys. Don’t ever hesitate to come and find me if you need me.’’

‘’Thanks’’ Matteo mutters. Looking a bit distraught. Biting his cheek like he is struggling to find the right words to say.

‘’So are you guys really together?’’ He starts. Wondering if he has said too much.

‘’Me and Isak?’’ Even says, and he can’t stop the smile that is plastered all over his face. ‘’Yeah.’’

He can barely believe it himself. They haven't even kissed yet, but it feels good. Solid. Like they are finally on the same page and both hellbent on giving this a go, which is all Even ever wanted. Just to try, to see if they could make it work. To find that little spark that once was there, and to be honest the spark is a bloody bonfire that has made itself a permanent home in Even’s chest. Burning and sparkling and throwing red hot embers all over Even’s body at the most stupid moments. Like right now when Even seriously considers just ditching the dinner table and dragging Isak out in the hallways so he can kiss the living daylights out of him.

‘’Are you moving in then?’’ Max doesn’t look like it’s something big. Just casually asking whilst stuffing his mouth with a piece of tortilla,  melting cheese dripping from his fingers.’’

‘’Not yet.’’ Isak says, then stutters and clearly backtracks.’’Maybe one day. I mean, we haven't even talked about that?’’ He looks at Even who is just smiling like he can’t do anything else but stare and smile. Drool a little from the corner of his mouth. Damn Isak is handsome. Even though there is a drip of meat sauce on his shirt. And something green stuck between his teeth.

‘’And are you having more kids? I mean if we are going to have more kids here you need to talk to me. I mean a baby would be cute I suppose but where would it sleep?’’ Now Even’s mouth is hanging slack. He can’t believe Max just said that.

‘’Would you like a sibling?’’ He says. ‘’You always said you didn’t, that you liked that it was just you?’’

‘’Yeah, but, I don't know. ‘’ Ha! Now Max is speechless. Even 1- Max 0.

‘’You should foster.’’ Matteo sounds stern. Like this is something he knows. ‘’You have no idea how many kids are out there who nobody wants. Anyone in their teens won’t get adopted, because people don’t want some grumpy kid who just hates their life, people just want little fairy-tale perfect babies, not spotty boys with issues. You have no idea how happy you would make someone if you took them in and looked after them and told them they could stay…’’

Oh hell. Now Matteo has his face in his hands, scrambling from the table whilst Max scoops him up in a hug, trying to make him stay.

 

‘’I just need a minute Pumpkin.’’ He whispers and stumbles out in the hallway with Max hot on his heels.

 

‘’He’s staying.’’ Even says. ‘’I just don’t know how to put it to him. I hate that he lives in that home, and I want him to be here, permanently. Have you seen the bag he carries around? That’s all his worldly belongings. He has everything he owns in that bag and he carries it around everywhere so it won’t get nicked. Isak, he can’t live like that, he needs a home. Here.’’

 

‘’With us.’’ Isak says, like his head is deep in thought.

‘’With us.’’ Even loves the way that sounds as the words roll off his tongue. He can’t even think straight right now, so he starts to clear the table. Loading plates onto the counter next to the sink, whilst his head is kind of spinning. It’s almost comforting when Isak starts the tap and runs the frying pan under the water, adding washing up liquid in a smooth circle over the surface. It’s comforting that they don't have to talk, like this is OK. They both have something to occupy their hands, and, well, someone needs to clear up this mess. Normally Even would have just left it. Let it all sit in the sink for the week until the cleaning people come in and put his house back in order, but that seems like a time long ago now. A time when he had nothing to care about more than waking and living and breathing and hoping that his son might open his mouth and speak to him.

 

It’s over too quick though, the kitchen clear and clean, the leftovers neatly stacked in the fridge.

 

‘’Fancy ice cream?’’ Even tries, hoping Isak will say yes. Just give me something to do. Please.

‘’I really should go home, I have 70 biology tests to mark before monday and my year 3’s are sitting their Maths exams on Wednesday. I still haven’t decided on the questions and I really need to up my game this weekend, get organized. I didn't get much done last week because of you.’’

‘’What did I do?’’ Even says, it's not even a question. He's just trying to prolong the inevitable. Please don’t go. Not yet. Just let me have you here a little longer.

‘’You’’ Isak says, and the smile is back. He tugs at Evens waist, pulling at his shirt. Positioning them both until he has him right where he wants him. Nose to nose. Isak’s hands on Even’s hips. Even’s hands braving holding onto Isak’s arms. Strong muscle under his fingers. And to be honest it makes Even a little dizzy. ‘’You messed with my head all week. I was all lovesick and confused.’’ He smiles, Even goes week in the knees. What the fuck has he done to himself?

‘’Good. My tactics worked then.’’ He’s joking. But he’s not. Not really.

‘’I didn't know if I was being seduced or if you were trying to kill me with chocolate. Either way, yeah. I think it worked.’’

‘’Good.’’ Even says again, and for once he’s tongue tied. I mean. All he wants to scream is ‘Stay!’ but then he does understand it. Slow and gentle. Let’s do it right.

‘’I should let us breathe for a little while. But can I see you again? This week?’’ Now Isak is nudging his nose. Up and down. Little movements that are mesmerizing in their simpleness. Whilst Even is pouting his lips. Just kiss me. For fucks sake, how old are we? 10? It’s not like we haven't kissed before. It’s not like this is new. But it is. But it’s not.

So Even doesn't reply, instead he pushes his lips onto Isak’s mouth. Just the softest of presses, lips on lips and damn. Oh fucking hell.

He’s forgotten about the bloody nerve endings all over human bodies' mouths. He’s forgotten about that stash of hormones that has been hibernating in his brain for years and years. He’s forgotten about all of it, the surge in his stomach, the way his hands just know what to do, suddenly grasping and tugging at the back of Isak’s head, as Isak seems to come out of the complete shock of Even lunging at him. Because now he is being walked backwards until the kitchen sink is digging into the back of his jeans, and fuck. Oh Isak. Oh God.

‘’Please don’t go’’ Even whimpers, then dives right back in. Because if he only can keep doing this, nipping at Isak’s mouth. Tasting the line where the inside of his mouth meets the softness of lips. Feeling tongue softly stroking against his own. And then there are all those things going on between their hips that Even doesn't even want to acknowledge right now. Small jerks and movements and there is definitely less room in these jeans than he remembers from a few minutes ago.

 

There is stubble against his fingertips. Lips on his cheeks. The tip of his nose. His eyelids. Please don’t go. Because we have missed out on so much time, and I don’t want to waste another minute when I can have all this. When we can have all this.

 

‘’We need to take this slow.’’ Isak whispers. His fingers curling around the hair on Even’s collar.

‘’I know’’ he whispers back. ‘’Doesn't mean I want to though. I want you. Here with me.’’

 

There. He’s said it.

 

‘’There is nowhere else I would rather be Even, but I’m trying to be sensible here. I need to go home and get some work done. I’ll text you though. I’ll text you and say goodnight later. OK?’’

 

‘’OK’’ Even sounds defeated. But yeah, Isak is probably right. He’s waited all this time. Even can be patient. He can wait a little longer.

 

‘’Thank you for dinner. Thanks for today.’’ Isak says. And Even presses his mouth back on Isak’s. Just stands there trying to memorize it all. The hands around his face. The warmth on his tongue. Breath on his face.

 

It’s over too fast. And Isak walks away, whilst Even stays by the sink with his fingers glued to his lips.

 

It’s not until the door slams shut that Even jerks back into reality. Back to life as he knows it. Alone. Yet he’s not. He’s nowhere near alone, and that kind of makes him smile through the tear that starts it’s slow journey down his cheek.

 


	27. Lidenskap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Det gjelder nå som før, styr dine lidenskaper! Ellers kommer du ingen vei.  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random Sunday morning smut anyone? Yes? OK...
> 
> Timewise we are still friday night. Slowburning away.....

It’s taken a long time for Matteo to calm down, which kind of scared me at first, but then I thought that it probably makes sense. I have never seen him upset before, not like this. Like he is rattled and embarrassed that he is not holding it together the way he always does, when he doesn't have to. It’s only me. It’s just me here and he doesn't have to pretend that nothing's wrong when something clearly is.

 

Instead he just lies on my chest and lets me hold him. Lets me rub his back and kiss his hair and do all those little things that make my insides turn to mush. Yeah, because I’m a right softie me. I love all this shit. Skin and warmth and the feeling of doing something good. Like I am. Honestly, because looking after Matteo is like a drug, like I can feel it in my veins, the connection. It’s fucking weird but I love it. Like I scratch his back and I can feel the pleasure on my own skin.

 

Matteo is the best thing that has even happened to me, that’s for sure. I don’t know how I lived before that day when he found me under the stairs. I don’t know how I survived. Because now I feel like I can’t bear the thought of being without him and that is fucking weird. In a good way weird. I think.

 

Anyway, he’s calm now, his hand resting on my bare skin, having somehow made it’s way under my jumper. His fingers tapping softly on my chest, little strokes on that soft super soft skin around my nipple. Which is lighting me up like a Christmas tree again.

 

Sex. Ugh. Can one actually get enough of sex? It was bad enough that I had a quick wank in the toilets before lunch. Quietly, but I needed it. I was sitting in class with a blatant boner and I had to somehow fix it. Beggars can’t be choosers. I suppose when we get better at this I could just text Matteo and get him to blow me. Just like that. Maybe find some janitors cupboard somewhere where we could have a few minutes peace and…well. Fuck. I shouldn’t think about sex all the time. I just can’t help it.

 

‘’You OK Baby?’’ I try to crane my neck up so I can look at him. See what state he’s in.

 

‘’Yeah’’ He says. His eyes red raw and his skin still a mess of mush and dried up tears. ‘’I kind of feel like a baby. Sorry Pumpkin, I kind of lost it a bit there. Got all emo over whatever.’’

 

‘’It’s OK to be sad sometimes.’’ I start. Trying to think of something to say that is better than ’I’m sorry you felt sad but I’m horny and you know you said you would blow me? Well maybe now is the worst time ever but it might take your mind of whatever made you sad?’. Well I don’t say that of course. Instead I kiss his forehead. ‘’My Dad used to say to me that even Superman goes home at the end of a shit day, takes his spandex off and cries into his pillow. Everyone does. Some days are better than others, and the bad days are just there to remind us to appreciate the good days more. ‘’

 

‘’Your Dad is awesome.’’ Matteo says. Looking like he means it.

‘’I know.’’ I say back. My Dad has guts. Well in a cowardly way, I mean he would rather run a million miles away than solve something really simple, because he gets all shy and embarrassed, but then he will get some crazy idea and just go with it, making things happen, and now he has somehow managed to convince Isak to be his boyfriend. How the hell did that happen?

‘’How long has this thing with Isak been going on?’’ Matteo asks, whilst his hands are dragging my jumper over my head. Awesome.

 

‘’No idea, last week he was crying into his laptop because Isak

 hated him, and now we are apparently family? Adults make this love thing so damn complicated.’’ Honestly. I have no idea what Dad and Isak are doing. I mean, if it’s meant to be it’s meant to be? Just snog and get on with it. Like this. Yeah, I kind of kiss my boyfriend. Lots of tongue. Eating his mouth out. Fuck I love this. Love all of this stuff.

 

I love the way his breath goes all erratic and how he swallows when I suck the skin on his neck. I’ve given him little red marks before but I’m a little heavier on the suction today, making him almost whimper. Like I’m hurting him when I’m not.  I’m really not, I promise.

 

‘’Sit up.’’ He says. Like he’s back. There he is, my baby. The one who takes control and fixes everything that is wrong with the world. Because he does. A minute ago, he looked lost and so damn sad, and now he’s grinning like the little idiot he is.

 

Well I don’t argue, I whip my jeans off faster than light whilst he’s stuffing pillows behind my back and then he straddles me. Which makes me think of a million different frankly filthy things that I have seen men do in porn. Most of them including riding cock like a freaking pony.

 

‘’I seem to think I promised someone a blow job.’’ He grins into my mouth, whilst I tug at his hoodie. Please. Please take it off.

 

He doesn’t of course, because I know what he’s like now. I’m learning his little quirks, and right now he’s bloody nervous and I kind of get that having his clothes off will throw more anxiety to the mix. Oh well. Not that I mind. Because now he’s nibbling at my neck and I am shimmying out of my boxers whist he’s wriggling on top of me. Fully clothed.

 

So, I do what I can, I mean, he’s still the most gorgeous man I have ever seen. His little nose that I manage to smother in a kiss as he moves down. Then he goes for my nipples and I almost arch off the bed. Fuck. I love this. I tell him as well.

 

‘’You’re fucking good at this.’’ I pant out as his teeth bite down on my nub. Which is already hard to the point of that it’s a little painful when he tugs at it. Sucks and licks whilst I whinge like a baby.

 

‘’I’ve got a little performance anxiety after the King of blowjobs blew me for breakfast. I won’t be as good as you. No idea where to even start.’’ He says, his face buried in my stomach and my cock twitching around somewhere near his neck.

 

‘’The King of blowjobs is most likely about to lose his crown and title to the Knight of Oral who is wriggling around on my lap right now’’ I sass.

 

‘’Knight of Oral.’’ He sighs into my thigh. Well he’s laughing. Good.

 

‘’We should use that for our Drama thing. Give everyone totally smutty names. For fun.’’

 

‘’Jonas would kill us.’’  I giggle. My fingers fisting the hair on his head. Please baby. Just give me something here.

 

‘’Have you googled Jonas Vasquez?’’ He says from somewhere down by my balls.

 

‘’No?’’ I squeal. Hoping. I might just grab my dick and shove it in his mouth at this rate. If I come before my cock is in his mouth I am going to be seriously pissed off with myself.

 

‘’His graduation project from Uni was called ‘Cunnilingus’. ‘’ Yeah, like I am supposed to be able to grasp anything right now, since my boyfriends tongue is licking the skin under my balls. He’s going to kill me.

 

‘’And?’’ I’m struggling to talk here. Instead I say it quietly in my head. I’m not going to come yet. I’m not going to come yet.

 

Oh fuck. Now his tongue is kind of sweeping up my shaft. Slowly. Too slow. Oh god help me. All the way to the tip, where he kind of does something with his tongue involving circles and nipping at my foreskin with his lips and I haven’t got a clue what he’s doing because I can’t see what he’s doing and my eyes have kind of rolled back in my head anyway and damn it’s amazing. Hot and wet mouth around my cock and he’s just playing with it. Teasing me. Tugging carefully at my skin with his lips. Kissing. Flattening his tongue around the head. Licking. Teasing. And then he pulls back whilst I roar like a spoilt child.

 

‘’Please’’ I almost shout.

 

‘’Please what?’’ He laughs. Softly softly, and then he blows on my dick. Which makes all the hairs at the back of my neck stand up whilst my body arches up towards him.

 

‘’Please Matteo, most gorgeous bloke in the world. I love you and please please please…’’

 

‘’Say it Pumpkin.’’ He does it again. Blows on the wet skin, making me shiver even though I’m too hot. My cheeks burning. My chest flushed red. My cock straining.

 

 And then he looks up at me and I kind of freak out. In a good way. Because he is beautiful. All wet lips and flushed cheeks and his eyes that are just full of trust. He trusts me. He loves me. And it’s overwhelming in it’s simple beauty.

 

‘’I love you.’’ I whisper. And damn it now I have tears in my eyes. ‘’Please just love me?’’ I say. I have no idea why, it just comes out.

 

‘’Always.’’ He whispers back.

 

Then he does it and my mind just short circuits. Hot wet mouth around cock apparently equals brain freeze in the messed-up head of Maximillian Bech, aged 17. I can’t form a single coherent thought. My mind just goes blank, like my eyes have gone snow-blind and there is static all over the place and nothing else matters anymore. It’s liberating in its awesomeness because I’m babbling and jerking all over the place, vaguely aware of my hands pulling at his hair and his head bobbing upp and down whilst I behave like a sex crazed zombie. I think. I’m so going to regret this later. Die in shame at what on earth I’m doing and saying if I can even remember what happened after I come. Because there is no doubt in my mind that that is the guaranteed outcome of my first ever blowjob.

 

I’m sliding off the side of the bed I think when he pushes my thigh up over his shoulder. Grabs my cock in his fist and pumps like mad, which is apparently exactly what I asked for because I’m now screaming ‘’YES YES YES’’ and kicking my legs, whilst his tongue is back under my balls, nuzzling dangerously near my crack, whilst my head is screaming ‘Yes go there’’ whist my sensible self is shaking my head like mad. Not that he can see. Not that I can see because that’s the minute my cock decides to go off like a New Years Eve rocket.

 

I die. I die a million deaths. Over and over and over.

 

Sex.

 

Best. Thing. Ever.

 

Seriously.

 

‘’King of Blowjobs.’’ I pant out. I can barely think. My arms are tugging at him. Trying to get him up in my arms, but he is fighting me, still licking my stomach and it takes a while before I get what he’s doing.

 

He’s licking me clean. Like a goddamn cat, and it’s the freaking sexiest thing I have ever seen. Because now I can’t stop staring at him.

 

A little smile on his face as he slowly works his way up my stomach. Lapping up the little droplets of white from my skin and I let out a groan as my dick starts to spring to life again. Yup, He’s definitely going to kill me.

 

‘’Fuck Matteo’’ I whisper.

 

‘’You taste amazing. Addictive shit this. Good thing I’m into you Pumpkin, because next time I am going to let you come in my mouth, let you shoot this stuff straight down my throat…..’’

 

Yeah, that’s me. Moaning like a pornstar. Tugging at myself.

 

‘’You’re going to make me shoot again.’’ I whinge as he licks my lips, leaving a trail of saltiness on my tongue as I taste myself. Fuck.

 

Well I’m not gentle or suave. I’m horny as fuck. Again. And desperate, because I roll on top of him and climb him like a fallen down log, all arms and legs and I hump his groin almost squealing with delight as his cock appears from underneath the joggers he’s wearing.

 

‘’Hand’’ He pants. Thank god. He’s as horny as me. All glassy eyed and his lips are swollen and I almost bite his cheek, because he just looks too delicious to resist.

 

Anyway, he grabs my hand and somehow line us up and then suddenly our cocks are having a little party in the grip of our hands and I can barely keep still as he presses his lips to mine and we don’t even kiss. Just breathe heavily into each other’s mouths as we do some kind of fucked up joint masturbation thing. Which is like amazing, a million times better than jerking one off on my own.

 

I come for the second time in a few minutes. There is not much there but it’s blinding to the point that I almost get a headache trying to catch my breath as we come down. Whilst Matteo has made a mess all over his hoodie. And me.

 

I would have licked it off, but I kind of think licking his hoodie might not be the sexiest thing to do, and anyway I would much rather just lie here all snuggled up in him, my hand still firmly around his softening cock.

 

‘’Was it OK?’’ He says softly. Like he has to ask.

 

‘’OK?’’ I squeal. ‘’Dude, I just came twice. I think I’m good. I think I’m more than good.’’

 

He just laughs and kisses my cheek. He’s spent. He’s as exhausted as me.

 

We’re a ridiculous sight the two of us. Him in his hoodie and his trousers round his ankles. Me stark naked with my arms under his clothes, reveling in the warmth of him. One day he will see how beautiful he is. One day he will hopefully not even think about the scars on his skin, because to be honest I’m falling in love with them too. His skin is uniquely his, and my fingers are learning the patterns on his stomach. Tracing the familiar little bumps on his back.

 

‘’Why were you sad earlier? What made you get emo?’’

 

It’s probably not the thing to ask when we are both in a post orgasmic coma but I need to know. I won’t let him go to sleep feeling sad. Not ever.

 

‘’Have you ever had that desperate want to belong to something? Like you would do anything to be part of something that you just can’t have? I felt a bit like that. Like this was all too good to be true.’’ He looks so sad that my heart breaks.

 

‘’Oh baby, whatever it is you want, just tell me. Whatever you need let me help you.’’ I mean that. Because right now I would do anything to make him smile again. He should never look this sad. Never ever.

 

‘’I’ve got you now Pumpkin, and one day we will have a family of our own. That’s what I want. I want to have what you have, people around me who love me, unconditionally. Where I don’t have to ask permission to stay and get pushed out when people have had enough of me.’’

 

‘’Matteo. Baby’’ I get up on my elbow so I can look at him properly. Because this is important. ‘’We are already family. You are my boyfriend. That makes us family. I will never get bored of having you here, because I love you.’’

 

‘’You might, and then your Dad will get pissed off with me being here all the time and leaving my shit around the house. Hanna’s Dad said…’’

‘’You have met my Dad, haven’t you? The dude who thinks the sun shines out of your arse? He adores you, and there are not many people that he likes. He’s a bit like me, people kind of scare him, but when he likes someone he smothers them with love until they run away screaming for mercy.’’

 

I’m exaggerating a little of course, but he needs to hear it. And it’s true. My Dad is like in awe of Matteo, going all gooey eyed when he’s in the room. He would never chuck him out, unless he did something super shitty. Which he never would. So, everything is chill.

 

‘’I love you. Which means my Dad has to love you because otherwise I’d kick his skinny arse. Simple. You already have 3 people in your family. And then there is Isak, and if they have another kid, shit Matteo, that scares me more than anything. How the hell would that work?’’

 

‘’Don’t stress about it Pumpkin.’’ He laughs, looking a little more like himself. His eyes glittering in the soft light from the bedside lamp. ‘’Anyway, Isak is a nice guy, he has been good with me. He kind of helped me out last year when I was feeling really shitty and needed to vent to someone who would kind of understand. I had no one to talk to about stuff, and I knew Isak was gay so I kind of turned up before class one day and word vomited shit all over him and kind of cried into his bottle of Fanta. It wasn’t my finest moment, but he has never said a word about it or brought it up again, apart from that he started Queer Nissen the next week and told me we would make sure no one would feel there was no one to talk to about things like that.’’

 

‘’You came out to Isak? To a teacher?’’ I say that more like a statement, because I’m kind of mortified that I didn’t know. That I spent all that time crushing on him and not knowing anything important about him. I should have tried harder. Asked around. I should have fucking talked to him. Gotten to know him.

 

‘’Yeah. Normal kids come out to their parents I suppose, but I didn’t have anyone who cared what the hell I did, and sometimes you kind of do, if you see what I mean?’’

 

I just nod. There is so much I don’t know about him. So many questions.

 

‘’Do you think we will be together forever? Like grow wrinkly and old together?’’ Another stupid question, but right now I need to know. I want to. What’s the point otherwise? I don’t want to go crushing on anyone else and go through the horrible heartbreak of not knowing if the person you want even knows that you exist. No this is it for me. I’m done. I’ve got Matteo, and I can’t even imagine not growing old with him.

 

‘’Yeah. We will. You and I, I mean how many people are as lucky as us? That we actually found eachother and were both kind of gone for eachother before we even knew that we were a thing?’’

 

I don’t think that bit makes sense but I kind of laugh anyway. I know what he means.

 

‘’Do you think people meet like at our age and actually make it? I mean, we have another year of VGS, then Uni, and we need to get jobs, and start a family. The whole Forever thing seems just so infinite right now?’’

 

‘’You forgot getting married and buying our first home and all that stuff Pumpkin. There is so much we have to do, but yeah. We will make it. My parents met when they were 15, and they made it. They loved eachother. Well from what I remember.’’

 

He falls quiet again. I don’t ask.

 

‘’One day when you are ready, talk to me.’’ I whisper. ‘’I will listen. I will always listen.’’

 

He nods into my chest, curling into me until he’s where he needs to be, whilst I fold the duvet around us both.

 

‘’Love you’’ I whisper into his hair.

 

His arms just squeeze me tighter.

 

‘’What was that thing you said about Jonas Vasquez?’’ I half mumble into his hair.

 

‘’Oh, his exam play?’’ Matteo giggles softly. ‘’He wrote a whole play about pussy. And how to go down on girls. I read it, it’s disgusting. It’s all about this dude who lives in a vagina and licks it. He was top of his class that year. Graduated with honors whatever that means. Fuck knows why. ‘’

 

‘’Eugh’’ I blurt out. I might give that a miss.

 

‘’Yeah’’ Matteo slurs. ‘’Put me right off girls. Not for me. Cock all the way for me I think. Your cock.’’

 

He snuggles into my skin. My nakedness against his clothes. Well except my legs are twirled around his hairy legs, my toes against his socked feet.

 

Just the two of us, right here, right now.

 

It’s pretty much perfect.

 

 

 

 


	28. Leve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Å leve et konsekvent liv, ville noe i verden, ville det med alvor - det koster.  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Triggerwarnings. This chapter deals briefly with Matteo's backstory. Not in a graphic way but it should be mentioned.

He’s hardly slept. Well he has but it’s been broken, his bed feeling empty and strange, which it shouldn’t since Even sleeps in his bed all the time, on his own, but he knows Isak was there and now he just can’t kick him out. Like the ghost of him is still lingering between the sheets. He can still feel the weight of him against his back, like some phantom limb that he’s somehow lost. He aches for him. Which is crazy, but then Even has never been sane. He’s always been a mess of thoughts and ideas and surges of creativity that fall into depths of lows where he can barely get out of bed.

 

He’s still up too early, sat on the damn box outside with his second coffee of the day, coupled with his third cigarette nervously glowing between his fingers.

 

It’s going to be a beautiful day, the sky clear and the sun already high in the sky, bathing the world in light and warmth. Even should be happy, yet he is nervous and twitchy and feeling strangely down.

 

‘’Hi’’

 

The voice is tentative. Questioning. Like he’s not sure if he should be there.

 

‘’Hi Kiddo’’ Even sighs and nudges towards the space next to him. ‘’There is coffee in the machine if you want some?’’

 

Matteo just nods and disappears back in the house, only to reappear, carefully balancing a cup in his hands. He sits. Smiling nervously as he crosses his feet against the wooden planks on the veranda. They need varnishing. The whole thing needs a clean. It’s just Even is crap at this outdoorsy thing. Like gardens. Verandas. Garden furniture. Plants and that green dangerous slope that is supposed to be a lawn but kind of looks like a mess of weeds and dandelions giving small splashes of yellow against the green.

 

‘’Thanks for the socks.’’ Matteo says, wriggling his toes in the sparkling white obviously new socks he’s wearing.

 

‘’Least I could do. You’re been amazing with Max. He adores you, we all do. Is he still asleep?’’ Even asks, and now the kid is blushing. A tiny smile creeping over his lips as he takes a sip of coffee.’’

 

‘’Yeah’’ Matteo replies. Like he’s a little embarrassed. Yet proud.

 

‘’It’s good that he sleeps. He copes so much better with the world if he’s well rested. When he gets run down his anxieties get worse.’’ Even looks over at the kid who is chewing on a finger nail. Holding his cup at an angle, the hot liquid threatening to spill.

 

‘’Where is Isak?’’ He asks. Looking out over the neighborhood below them, the light breeze making his hair lift from his forehead.

 

‘’He went home. I think I fucked up again Matteo.’’ Even doesn’t dare to say more, because if he does he will no doubt start to cry and scar the poor kid for life. He doesn’t need Even’s patheticness on top of all the other burdens he carries around on his shoulders.

 

‘’What did you do? ‘’ The kid asks, all innocently. Whilst Even takes a nervous gulp of coffee.

 

‘’I get these ideas in my head, like I can see it so clearly, how we would all fit as a family. It would be amazing, the four of us. All living here and being together and having all this love around us. I can see it, but I forgot that I’m kind of pushing my vision on Isak. And on you guys, when it might not be what you want at all. And I think I scared Isak, it was too much, too soon, when I have just kind of convinced him to just try to be with me. To see if he could even entertain the idea of falling in love with me. Because right now he’s probably sitting at home thinking he might have made a lucky escape.’’

 

Oh God. Even talks too much, because now the kid looks terrified.

 

‘’You want us all to live here?’’ Matteo almost whispers.

 

‘’I’m doing it again, aren’t I? I’m pushing you into this too, when you barely know us. But yeah, I do.’’ Even is just too honest. And he wants it. He wants Max to be happy, and Matteo makes him happy. He’s been brilliant with Max, Even doesn’t doubt that for a minute, just like yesterday when Max was panicking again, and Matteo just held him, speaking quietly and steadily to him, whilst Max was hanging on to his every word. He would make a good doctor. He has it all in him already. The kid is all compassion and care, which is surprising knowing the little things Even knows about him.

 

‘’Look Kiddo, can I ask you something? I mean you have every right not to tell me anything, but I just want to know where I stand in all this.’’

 

‘’Sure’’ Matteo replies but he doesn’t look up.

 

‘’Where are your parents?’’ It’s blunt, but Even kind of needs to know all this. Get some idea of the framework to start with.

 

‘’Sudwestkirchhof Stahnsdorf’’

 

‘’Huh?’’

 

‘’It’s a cemetery outside Berlin. It’s supposed to be pretty, all woodland and flowers. I’ve never been.’’

 

‘’You’re German?’’ Even sits up and leans forward. So many questions. So many fucking questions. ‘’You sounded like you spoke German. Like perfectly.’’

 

‘’I don’t speak it anymore. My parents were German. They came here so my Dad could do his doctorate degree, and we ended up staying. We always spoke German at home.’’

 

He goes quiet again, his hand clearly trembling as he takes another sip of coffee.

 

‘’Do you want to tell me what happened?’’ Even says softly.

 

‘’No’’ Matteo says. Shaking his head vigorously. ‘’I don’t talk about it. We were just out in the car. Driving. I can’t even remember where we were going, just that my Mum was driving and Dad was talking and we were happy and then suddenly my life was never the same again. They said it was just a fluke. There was no ice on the road, there was no mistakes, no drunk driver or anything. Just a lorry and our car and then it was all over. I don’t remember anything. I don’t. I never talk about it because I don’t fucking remember.’’

 

He’s almost shouting out the last sentence and there is coffee spilling onto his leg, whilst Even carefully removes the cup from his hand.

 

‘’You don’t have to remember. Sometimes our mind chooses to protect us. Sometimes it’s good that your brain has said, enough. You don’t need to remember. Remember the good. Not the bad. ‘’

 

‘’My parents didn’t make it.’’ Matteo says coldly. ‘’My uncle came over from Germany and brought them back to Berlin. He sold the flat we were in. I’ve never been back there either.’’

 

‘’But what about you? ‘’ Even shouldn’t ask. He can see that this is painful, and Matteo has gone all pale. He needs to tread carefully before he pushes too far, but then the kid needs to get this kind of shit out sometimes, because carrying all this baggage would kill anyone. Not at least a kid like Matteo.

 

‘’I wasn’t supposed to make it either. Nobody thought I would. I was in hospital for almost a year, that’s why I’m a year behind. When I was finally well enough to go home, I had nowhere to go. I went to a foster home, but then I got sick again and needed to go back in for more surgery, and when I got better they sent me to another place. It just went on and on…’’

 

‘’But surely your Uncle should have come for you?’’ Even shakes his head. This. Fuck humans.

 

‘’I don’t remember any of them. I barely remember what my parents looked like. I have no photos. I have nothing left, and sometimes I get so fucking angry about it. What kind of fucked up person gets rid of a kid’s things? I had stuff. He didn’t even bring me clothes to wear? I don’t think he even came to the hospital. Fuck relatives. I mean I would never ever have done that, just abandoned some kid.’’

 

‘’Maybe you are better off without them? Maybe if you had grown up with them, you would have turned into someone just as thoughtless? You can’t live your whole life thinking what if.’’

 

Even has to stop himself. Because he kind of lived his whole life just like that.

 

‘’Instead you have grown into this strong, brilliant smart caring loving young man, who I am incredibly proud of.’’

 

Matteo just shakes his head. Vigorously. ‘’I’m not strong. I’m terrified that I won’t be able to cope if Max get’s unwell. I know it’s inevitable, that he will go manic at some point. He has told me what happened last time, how out of control he felt, everything he told me scares me. I’m not strong. I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle him.’’

 

‘’You won’t be alone. Promise. Max is stronger than he thinks, and he is stable right now. But whatever happens I will be right here with you. Max is not moving out for a few years, not that he wouldn’t cope, because he would, but because he needs to get an education and it would be silly to pay for accommodation when we have all this space. If the worst comes, and he gets unwell, you and I will cope. We have eachother, and we both love him. We just need to try to keep him safe from himself, and then love him through the aftermath. That’s all we can do. ‘’

‘’But what if it’s not enough?’’ Matteo says softly. He’s not well, the shock of hormones and anger and grief pumping through his body, goose bumps on his skin despite the sunshine and warmth of the air.

 

‘’Life is like that. We can only try. If it’s not enough, then we will still fight. I will fight for him all the way, because he is my kid, and I am nothing without him. I have loved him since the first time I saw him, and I will love him until the day I die. There is no in between with kids Matteo. Your Mum and Dad will have loved you. They will have loved you so desperately that nothing would have kept them away from you. I bet they are still here, all around you. Watching your every move and if they could tell you anything, I bet they would have wanted you to remember that they loved you. Your parents would be so damn proud of you kiddo.

 

Oh fuck. Now Even is wiping away tears and Matteo is sobbing. Desperately and violently into Even’s arms.

 

‘’Can I tell you what I want to happen?’’ Even tries. Because he has to steer this back on track. Get some of this sadness out, and put some hope into the mix, because he can sense that this is something Matteo needs to process, and fuck social services if they haven’t had this kid in therapy. At least he should still be in grief counseling and have a rolling appointment with a support group.

 

Matteo just hiccups into his chest. Clinging to Even’s shirt like he never wants to let go. Which is just messing with Even more, because every kid should have parents. Who the hell leaves a kid to rot away in a hospital bed when their parents are no longer there? Yet he sees people like that at work. Lonely hard people seemingly unaffected by grief. Selfish frightened people. People who think it’s easier to shove parts of life under the carpet and conveniently forget about it, than man up and deal with the people who need them.

 

‘’There is a room downstairs that used to be the guest room. We used to have Aupairs who helped me look after Max when he was little, they lived there. It’s a nice big bright room and there is a small toilet and shower. Next to it is the laundry room, which some of the neighbors have converted to a kitchen. You see the Larsen’s house over there, with the hot tub outside? They rent out the whole basement on Airbnb for tourists, it’s really popular apparently. Anyway, I was going to clear out the room today, because it is full of crap I have just thrown in there because I am too lazy to take it to the tip. I was hoping you and Max could help me.’’

 

Matteo doesn’t reply, so Even takes it as a good thing and just carries on. Nervously blabbering out his big masterplan. He needs to get Matteo to agree to this. Please. Because it would be good. It would be so fucking good.

 

‘’I have a carpool van booked tomorrow, so we can take all the crap to the tip, and then I thought we would go to IKEA and buy a desk and a new mattress for the bed, or if the bed is crap we will buy a new bed. A big double. Anyway, I was hoping that you would like it to be your room. A place where you can keep your things, a safe place. I will never go down there. It’s up to you to keep it clean OK? But it would be yours. Then you have somewhere to chill, and you and Max can sleep down there, or you can sleep up in Max room, I mean it’s your space. You do what you want. And if you like it, we can kind of work on getting a kitchen built down there, and a little outdoor veranda where you can sit and have breakfast. Kind of. I will need help though, because I’m not doing it on my own. You can start by figuring out how to sort the floor, because it’s all just concrete in the laundry room and we need to get it plumbed out. Lots to learn. Go google it. ‘’

 

He has to catch his breath. Deep breaths. Whilst Matteo seems a little calmer. Even though Even is now probably killing him with his overbearing pipedream that is probably the last thing the kid needs.

 

‘’You serious?’’ Matteo croaks out into Even’s shirt, whilst Even holds him a little tighter.

 

‘’Of course.’’

 

‘’You want to give me a room.’’ Matteo says it a-matter-of-factly. Like it’s totally ridiculous.

 

‘’Do you know what I really want?’’ Even is on a roll. He might as well lay all his cards on the table. Not that he will never learn. Go big or go home.

 

‘’What?’’ Matteo says. Sitting up. Leaning back into his own space, his face all mushed up and swollen from tears.

 

‘’You said you have a few months until you are 18. What I want you to do is take those last few months and be exactly what you are.’’

 

‘’And what am I?’’ Matteo snivels and wipes his nose on the back of his sleeve.

 

‘’You are 17. For the last months of being 17, let yourself go a little. You don’t have to be anything else. Be 17, Be a kid and let me look after the two of you. Just humour me. Let me be your kind of messed-up-Dad-person and let yourself relax a little. You don’t have to be all grown up and responsible just yet. I mean I could go all out and apply for custody of you if that is what you want. I would happily apply to adopt you. Seriously, but then you would be in love with your brother and that would be seriously fucked up.’’

 

Yeah. That worked. The kid is smiling. Giggling a little.

 

‘’Yeah, I suppose that would be….wrong.’’ Matteo looks up again. ‘’But you mean it? About the room? Living here? I could pay rent, if I took on a few more shifts….’’

‘’Bullshit. You are not paying rent. When you go to Uni and get your study grants, then you will both pay a nominal rent if you still want to live at home, but you might end up living in the dorms, or getting a flat, I mean It’s up to you, but If I had a say I want you living at home with me forever. But that’s just me. I’m clingy as hell, and I kind of want my babies where I can keep you safe.’’

 

‘’Babies.’’ Matteo mutters and strokes the coffee stain on his leg. Like he’s embarrassed.

 

‘’You are both my babies. Fuck I’m still in shock that Max has a boyfriend. He was only little like yesterday.’’ Even shakes his head. Looking curiously at Matteo. Please say yes. Please.

 

‘’What if Max splits up with me?’’ He looks distraught again.

 

‘’He’s not going to do that. He’s just as stubborn as me. And anyway, if that happened, we would deal with it. You have your room, he has his. And I would kick both your asses. ‘’

 

Yeah, there’s the sun. That smiling boy that lights up the room.

 

‘’So….I should go wake up my boyfriend then? Tell him we have a room to fix up?’’ It’s sweet the way his nerves show. That he can’t quite believe it.

 

‘’Yeah. Bring him coffee and tell him to get his arse out of bed. ‘’ Even lights another cigarette. His fourth. Fuck. He needs to stop this shit. Nobody needs to smoke this much. He shouldn’t be smoking at all.

 

‘’I think Max is trying to give up smoking. He didn’t have a single cigarette yesterday, did you notice?’’ Matteo says, standing up glancing down at the lighter still in Even’s hand.

 

‘’Really?’’ Even is kind of shocked.

 

‘’Yeah. It’s brilliant if he can do it. It would be good for him. Not to smoke.’’

 

‘’It would be fantastic.’’ Even means that. ‘’See? You are so good for him. Now go get him up. I’ll make a fresh coffee pot and put some porridge on the stove. That OK?’’

 

He smiles. The kid smiles. It’s all Even needs to see.

 

 

**Morning Even. Sorry I never texted you last night. I’m an idiot.**

**Morning.**

**I couldn’t sleep. Slept all day at yours and then ended up not getting any work done all night, just tossing and turning watching crap on Netflix.**

**You could have talked to me. I was awake too.**

**Didn’t want to disturb you.**

**You can disturb me anytime, you know that.**

**Yeah, I suppose.**

**I’m sorry if I was too much yesterday. I know we should take it slow and I kind of roped you into some family meeting and probably made you feel really uncomfortable in front of the boys.**

**Nah, it was great. Love your boys.**

**Our boys.**

**Sorry. Shit. Doing it again. I’m just really into the idea. Sorry again. Slow and steady.**

**Slow and steady.**

**I’m clearing out the basement room for Matteo today, so he has somewhere for his stuff. I’m hoping he will live here full time from now on.**

**I have dealt with his social worker before, she’s a reasonable woman. If we need to deal with her I’m happy to talk to her.**

**We. I like that we are a we.**

**Even.**

**I’m hopeless** **.** **I just love you. I love the idea of us. I’ll calm down now. Sorry.**

**It’s OK.** **I like the idea of us too. Now go and clear that room for the kid and I will talk to you later. I’m going to bury myself in exam questions.**

**Have a good day. Love you.**

**Even.**

**Yes?**

**Love you too.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sudwesthof Kirchhhof Stahnsdorf is a very old woodland cemetary outside Berlin, and the resting place of many famous Germans. It has a rich history, straddling the old border between the east and west. It also houses a Norwegian style wooden chapel. I have tried to find out if it is still used as a burial ground, but it seems it is now mostly a tourist attraction and a wildlife sanctuary. For this story though I choose to make it the final resting place of Matteo's parents, as I thought they needed somewhere beautiful to rest, with connections to a place they clearly loved. www.secretcitytravel.com/berlin has a great article with stunning photos from the graveyard.


	29. Venn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I valg mellom falske venner og åpne fiender har jeg alltid foretrukket det siste.  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

Having lunch by his workstation in the dusty back room at Hartvig Nissen’s VGS, the room that is officially known as the Sciences Teachers’ lounge but should be renamed as the room full of shit that the cleaners clearly forgot, is not an unusual habit for Isak. He kind of likes the quietness away from the hustle of students and the assumption that he is busy and not up for small talk. And anyway, he likes his colleagues down here, quiet serious people. Professional. People who actually like the stuff they try to cram into the kids’ brains. Well Isak has always been a number nerd, and he actually likes the newsletter his fellow Math’s teachers produce, however ridiculous it is to try to pass it on to the students. He has even thought of maybe making a sciences newsletter. Or Biology fun facts. But the simple truth is that putting his name behind that would firmly place Isak in the grown-up nerd bracket, and he is not quite ready to go there yet.

Not that he feels grown up sitting here by his desk chewing the rim of a paper cup and trying to pretend the lentil salad he picked up at Narvesen is actually tasty. It’s not. Not at all. Instead he is staring at the picture Even just sent him. A stupid selfie taken outside the Even’s house, all three of them standing there doing silly faces into the camera. Apparently, the boys are now spending their evenings painting the basement and Even is slightly terrified at the colour choices and the sounds of the two of them shaking spray cans. He doesn’t look terrified in the picture though, neither does the boys. They look happy. Damn happy.

 

He had seen Max and Matteo earlier in the week, huddled up in a corner of the cafeteria, seemingly lost in each other, and to be honest it had made Isak strangely jealous. Because the kid Max used to be, the boy with thorns sticking out from every angle, was sitting there staring at his boyfriend like he was the most precious thing. He had been smiling, his fingers stroking the mess of hair on Matteo’s head.

 

Not that Matteo doesn’t deserve that, fuck the kid deserves everything. He’s good. He’s a good student who keeps his head down. He also seems to make friends easily, surrounding himself with easy hugs and high fives whenever he walks by, and Isak has kind of kept an eye. Had his ear to the ground looking out for him since that day when they both ended up a sobbing mess in the biology classroom. He had seen so much of himself in the kid and cried as much for himself as for a student he barely knew, who was so alone in the world that he had to seek out a near stranger just to get some validation that he was worthy. That he wasn’t completely crazy for thinking the thoughts that where pretty much paralyzing him at night.

 

It’s not the first time he has thought about it, being a Dad. He toyed with the idea after that day, taking on a kid. Trying to pass on some good from all the things he knew, whilst he was still young enough to remember how it felt to be a teenager. I mean teens had it easy. It was your twenties that fucked you over if you weren’t careful.

 

And now it’s back in his head again, even Even had said it. ‘You need to be a Dad.’ Yeah. Like that would happen. But then it could. Because Isak is a bloody coward hiding here when he should be somewhere else. He had been thinking he should have called Even. Asked if they could have lunch or something, because isn’t that what you do when you are seeing someone?

 

The ‘I love yous’ are messing with his head though. Because the first time he typed it out on the screen he wasn’t even thinking. It just rolled off like he meant it. Then he felt like a dick because of course he doesn’t love Even. He barely knows him. So, yes, he’s insanely attractive. Funny as fuck. Really weird. In a good way. And yes, Isak would not say no to a fuck. Nope. Yes. But then he kind of goes all warm and mushy because all he wants is to go back to Even’s house and curl up with his arms around the man.

 

It makes him smile. And maybe that is what is wrong with him, that maybe this is what love is, and all these years Isak has just got it all messed up. He likes the idea. The whole idea of being this loved, and the ‘I love yous’ have kept rolling on his phone, like he means it, when every time he looks back at their texts he cringes a little.

 

They haven’t stopped talking all week. Well Texting. He hasn’t actually heard Even’s voice since he left the house last Friday, but they have texted like all the time. He knows more about Even now than he ever did. How he’s been working all week when he is supposed to be off, taking on extra volunteer work shifts when he should be resting. He also has this weekend off, and is planning on some grand garden makeover thing, the words in his texts all colourful rants about garden furniture and mowing lawns when he should be kicking back and relaxing. Then he is on nights again all next week. Strangely the idea of that makes Isak angry, because he could have been sleeping in Even’s bed all week when instead he has been fucking miserable at home trying to be all sensible and proud.

 

‘’Issaaakk’’ Jonas voice echoes through the room. Good thing it’s just him here otherwise he would have gotten some looks. Not that Jonas cares as he plonks himself down on the chair by Miriam’s desk.

 

‘’Jonas’’ Isak nods politely. Because Jonas coming down here means only one thing. Interrogation.

 

‘’Eva wants to know if you are coming over on Sunday. BBQ. She’s inviting a few of the people from work and the kids would love to see you.’’

 

Yeah, of course they would. Since single stupid uncle Isak is the one that ends up in the basement playing Xbox with Jonas and Eva’s teenaged boys and is the only one who takes an interest in their daughter’s clear obsession with Minecraft.

 

‘’I don’t know. Might be busy.’’ Isak tries but he takes a deep sigh. He knows what’s coming now.

 

‘’Næsheim still giving you grief?’’ Jonas gives him that look. The look that means A) Isak is about to fuck up again. B) Isak is about to get a lecture. And C) Jonas is about to declare that whatever shit Isak gets up to Jonas will still be there and catch him when he falls. Which he inevitably will because Isak has a mammoth record of fucking up.

 

‘’Even is actually quite a nice guy these days.’’ It’s a good start Isak thinks but Jonas just shakes his head.

 

‘’He was a dickhead at school. He is still a dickhead. And now you fancy him.’’

 

‘’I don’t fancy him.’’ Yeah right Isak. And of course, Jonas just laughs at him.

 

‘’Every time I have seen you this week you have your head in your phone with this stupid smile on your face. You like him.’’

 

Well busted. Of course, he is. He does. And it might be the case that he kind of tells Jonas everything.

 

‘’I think I do.’’ Isak says. Lame. Fucking Lame.

 

‘’The dude buys you a load of chocolate and you just fall for him? Like that? You are so bloody easy Isak.’’

 

Yeah, here comes the lecture. Right on cue.

 

‘’He loves me, and is it so wrong that for once someone is pursuing me? That I’m not the one chasing some idiot around trying to get laid? He’s nice Jonas. He’s really nice. And he loves me.’’

 

Fuck. Isak is pathetic. It sounded better in his head.

 

‘’Just because someone is chasing you, doesn’t mean that you have to go along with it. Saying No is perfectly reasonable Isak. ‘’

 

‘’I know that, I’m not stupid.’’ Isak sulks. No, he’s not. He’s just behaving like a child. Trying to justify his actions where he shouldn’t have to. Isak is a grown up. He can do what the hell he wants.

 

‘’Do you love him?’’

 

Of course, Jonas has to ask the right questions. Of course.

 

‘’I think I’m kind of in the last chance saloon Jonas. If I don’t find someone soon, then I am going to give up on everything. I kind of had already. I was going to resign myself to the fact that I was going to grown old gracefully, and just be on my own. Find a hobby. Buy a new TV. Then Even came along, and he has kind of put all these ideas in my head of things I could have and now all of a sudden, I can’t stop thinking that I want what he is offering. He loves me, and I can’t stop saying it back. That I love him right back and it’s bloody fucked up because it is all going to go to shit. He wants me to live with him, and the boys. He wants more kids. He wants a fucking dog Jonas. I can’t do that?.....Can I?’’

 

‘’Sounds fucking awful to me. Living with someone who loves you? Having kids? Getting a dog? Isak, you would become like me. All happy with a beer belly and sex on tap. Do you really want that? I mean come on. You are the ultimate grumpy fucker.’’

 

‘’It’s not like me is it?’’ Isak tries. But he’s smiling, and so is Jonas.

 

‘’Someone else’s kids are a lot to take on, but I think you of all people would be the one that could do that. I mean Isak, you are down in my will as guardian of my kids. I chose you for a reason, and if anything ever happened to Eva or myself, we are both in agreement that you should be the one to step up and raise those little shits like your own. I don’t have any doubt in my mind that you are the one person I would trust to do that. ‘’

 

‘’Don’t say shit like that Jonas.’’ Isak is wiping his eye. The pollen count must be high or something.

‘’Damn allergies eh?’ Jonas laughs. ’’But seriously Isak. If you like the guy, and he likes you back, and he wants you and you bloody want him, which you do because you are blushing, then why do you even question it? You don’t need my permission to be happy Isak. You don’t need anyone’s permission to do anything. If it feels right go for it. And if all goes to shit, you know where to find me.’’

 

‘’Jonas, for once, I don’t feel like it would? If you know what I mean? I kind of feel like this could be…I don’t know, I feel like it’s right. Like I’m scared, but at the same time I’m not. I trust him. ‘’

 

‘’We’re still talking about Næsheim? Dick of the century?’’ Jonas leans forward in the chair, his eyes firmly fixed on Isak.

 

‘’People change Jonas.’’

 

‘’Some people do. Some people don’t.’’ He says quietly. ‘’You love him?’’

 

‘’I think I do.’’ Isak says. It’s weird to say it out load. Make it real. Especially in front of Jonas who just leans back and puts his feet up on the desk. Hands behind his head leaning dangerously on the office chair that no doubt will fall over under Jonas circus acrobatics at any moment.

 

‘’Then go and grab it Isak. Be happy. Let yourself be happy, because having someone love you is bloody cool.’’

 

Jonas is right. Of course, and his words run on a bloody loop in Isak’s head all afternoon.

 

It’s like he can’t think straight anymore, pacing the floor in his flat with his phone in his hand. He wants to ask. He’s got so many questions. He hasn’t got a single answer to any of them in his head, but he needs. He needs to know and he needs to feel and he needs a fucking hug.

 

**Even, can I ask you something?**

**Of course, Anything.**

He types out a question. Deletes it in shame. How old is he? 5? Instead he paces again. Irons his shirts for next week. He never fucking irons shirts on a Friday night and what the hell is he doing. He needs to eat. He needs to sit the fuck down.

 

**Isak, is something wrong? Please just talk to me. I haven’t seen you for almost a week, and I miss you. Can I at least see you over the weekend at some point?**

He should reply to that straight away, but instead he grabs a holdall from the wardrobe, placing it carefully on his unmade bed. The basket of clean laundry from last week is still on the floor, and he tips it out next to the bag. Then angrily shoves all of it inside. His work bag is already by the door and the shirts for next week are neatly on hangers in the hallway, which he doesn’t even hesitate to shove down on top of the bag. He might have to iron them all over again but he doesn’t care. Instead he grabs his phone, wallet and keys and slams his front door shut behind him.

 

 

**Are you at home?**

 

His hands are shaking as he presses send. Hoping he is doing the right thing as he gets into the taxi waiting on the curb.

 

**Of course. Matteo has Theatre tonight and Max just got back from therapy and fell asleep on the sofa. Do you want to come over? No taco’s tonight but Matteo promised he will make dinner tomorrow.**

 

His whole body is shaking as he presses his PIN code into the taxi drivers credit card machine, nodding only as he grabs his bags from the boot.

 

Then he has to stop and let himself breathe.

 

Andemsveien 4 looks just like he remembers it. A freaking ugly 70ies box-build that his parents would have found modern and hip but now just screams dull and boring. Yet to Isak it screams home. He’s only been here once but the gravel under his feet sound welcoming and he takes the steps up to the door in two giant climbs, opening the door without ringing the bell. Which is probably rude but whatever? Isak has wasted time. He doesn’t want to waste another second.

 

So, he hangs his pathetic looking set of shirts on the hat rack by the front door and toes his shoes off, letting his bag hit the floor with a thump.

 

And there he is. Hair in a mess, wearing just a t-shirt and boxers. Standing in front of him with a look on his face of shock. Like he can’t believe Isak is here. Again. Turning up unannounced as usual like a prick, but he can’t help himself.

 

‘’I made a mistake.’’ He says, sounding much calmer than he feels.

 

‘’A mistake?’’ Even questions. But he is smiling. He is so fucking cute when he smiles.

 

‘’Yeah. I don’t want to take things slow. I don’t want to anymore.’’

 

‘’So….you brought a lot of shirts?’’ Even nods to the hangers. And Isak just shrugs his shoulders.

 

‘’Yeah? I’m shit at ironing. Thought you could show me how it’s done?’’

 

‘’Ironing?’’ Now Even is smirking. Trying to look serious when Isak can tell he is desperate to smile. Desperate to just lunge at him but he is holding back.

 

‘’Yeah? You sounded like you needed help with the lawn. So, I thought you can do my ironing and I will sort out your lawn. I’m pretty good with a lawn mower.’’

 

‘’Isak…’’ Even is begging here. Taking a tentative step forward, whilst Isak’s chest just heaves with emotions.

 

‘’Even, I don’t want slow and steady. I just want to be here with you and be happy, and I have been bloody miserable all week trying to figure it all out, but I can’t figure shit out without you and all I want to do is to go and lie down in bed with you and sleep like we did last Friday. ‘’

 

He takes a deep breath. He doesn’t dare to look at Even who is now far too close. Arms all around him. And suddenly Isak’s face is in Even’s neck and he is hugging back and it’s good. It’s so bloody good.

 

‘’Then stay.’’ Even says.

 

And all Isak can do is nod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please bear with me over the two coming weeks as real life is about to get busy! I will do my very best to keep updating but if I go quiet for a few days just bear with me!


	30. Øyeblikk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enkelte øyeblikk er valg-øyeblikk for hele livet.  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

‘’I forgot my toothbrush.’’ Isak says, feeling rather silly standing in the bathroom with just that. Nothing.

‘’You sure you don’t want anything to eat?’’ Even calls from the kitchen where he is pottering about. Looking all flustered no doubt. Because they have kind of been making out in the hallway for the last 15 minutes until Even had to push away and go catch his breath claiming he needed to unload the dishwasher.

 

Ridiculous, he knows that, but to be honest he was about to come in his pants and he wants more than that. And the whole sex bit scares the living daylight out of him, because he has no idea what Isak expects to happen. He doesn’t know what he expects to happen himself. Honestly.

 

‘’ Nah, I’m good.’’ Isak replies. Wondering if it would be OK to use Even’s toothbrush. Whichever that one is because there are 3 toothbrushes thrown on the side of the sink and using one of the boys would be wrong. Well he assumes the other two belongs to the boys.

 

‘’You can use mine, the yellow one.’’ Even calls back. Oh. OK. So, he does. Brushes vigorously until he feels a little more human. Has a quiet piss in the toilet with the door securely closed behind him wondering what he’s supposed to do now.

The kitchen light is off, and the hallway dark, just a small light from the living room where Max is face down in the sofa, obviously exhausted.

‘’He won’t go to bed until Matteo is back. It’s some new thing he’s got into his head, that he can’t sleep properly if he’s on his own in bed.’’

Makes sense Isak thinks, whilst letting himself lean into Even who is now standing right behind him.

‘’Come up to bed, I made us coffee. Decaf.’’ Even’s lips kiss his neck. Just a tiny peck but it makes Isak almost weak in the knees. Like it’s almost too much. Too much anticipation. Too much fucking love.

 

He follows Even like a lost sheep, not daring to look at the arse walking up the stairs in front of him. He’s gorgeous, even though the boxers he’s wearing have obviously seen better days and the t-shirt is some washed out concert memorabilia from the nineties, advertising a band Isak hasn’t even heard of.

In a way it’s comforting, the way Even doesn’t give a rat’s arse about what he wears. Whilst Isak kind of tries to remember what he is wearing under his jeans hoping for God’s sake that it’s not the grey pair with the hole under the elastic. Or those weird orange ones that he keeps meaning to throw away despite them being super comfy.

The room looks different in the night time, the bedside lights on and the bed a mess of crumpled up sheets.

‘’I can change the sheets.’’ Even says and starts to tug at the duvet.

‘’No, no no. It’s fine.’’ Isak replies, pulling his jeans down. Kicking them off and then feeling like an idiot. I mean, does he get naked? Or just keep to the boxers? Is topless too much? Not that his chest is bad, and he hopes he doesn’t smell. He doesn’t think he smells?

 

‘’Isak’’ Even says and sits himself down on the edge of the bed, with his back to Isak, who stops. Because Even’s shoulders are down and all that cocky confidence seems gone.

‘’We don’t have to do anything.’’ Isak tries to reassure. Hoping that he is reading this right. ’’I don’t expect anything. I just want to lie here and hold you. Because I love you.’’

 

Saying the words help. It kind of calms him. Like he is doing this right. Like he’s OK. He thinks he is OK. Hopes.

 

‘’I have no idea what to do with you.’’ Even says quietly. ‘’Apart from sit here and drink coffee. That’s kind of how far my plan has gone in my head.’’

‘’We can do that.’’ Isak says back. Kind of relieved. Because he’s not quite sure he is ready for anything. Not with Even. This is not some kind of hook-up. This is serious, like, long time ‘I want to live with you’ serious and to be honest it’s totally different from whatever Isak has wanted before. Yes of course he wanted Espen, and maybe living together had been part of his big masterplan, but to be honest all Isak can remember was the sex. Seduction and power and release and the long-winded chase and the banter and then. Yeah. The aftermath. Doom and destruction. This though. This.

‘’Even, come here.’’ he says. Kneeling on the bed and almost falling over himself trying to drag Even’s body into his arms. ‘’Come and cuddle.’’

 

He does. He lays down and curls into Isak and it’s pretty awesome. All of it. The smell of his hair in Isak’s face. The heaviness of the arm over his chest. The leg curled over his thigh. Legs that keep moving trying to find a comfortable place. Hands. Fingers. Fucking toes against Even’s ankles that make Isak shiver with pleasure. Because it’s someone else. Someone who needs this as much as Isak wants it.

‘’I missed you.’’ Even whispers.

‘’I think I needed some time to get my head straight. Just to process.’’ Isak says tentatively, hoping it makes sense.

‘’That’s good.’’ Even sounds tired. Tired but in some ways content.

‘’It’s been a long week.’’ Isak sounds like he’s 60. Seriously. Small talk has never been his strong side.

‘’The boys have painted all of downstairs and done this graffiti mural on the bedroom wall. Some tag thing. Looks pretty cool.’’

‘’Wow. I’ll have to go down and look.’’

‘’Yeah. The spray cans kind of scared me but it seems they both knew what they were doing.’’

‘’Kids usually do.’’ Isak says back. Letting his nose stroke the top of Even’s head.

‘’I feel like I have no idea what I am doing most of the time.’’ Even says. Snuggling closer to Isak, letting his leg curl tighter around Isak’s shin. Rubbing a little, just to feel the warmth from the friction. Skin. On skin. It’s nothing like he remembers it. Girls are just smooth. Soft and warm, whilst having Isak’s legs, that are kind of all hard muscle and hair against his own is new. Exciting. And so fucking right that he doesn’t quite know how to put words to it.

‘’Does anyone ever know what they are doing?’’ Isak replies. ‘’I hardly know how to get through another term, even though I have been teaching for years. Every summer I look at my class schedule and shudder, thinking, I can’t do it anymore. That I haven’t got it in me to drag another class through advanced algebra. Yet I get in there and it somehow happens. I think it’s sometimes just about not overthinking things, just keeping it simple.’’

Yeah Isak is the last person who should be giving life coaching advice right now. Even though he feels calmer than he has been for a long time. Happier. Content. After less than an hour in this damn house, finally back in this bed, with the slightly lumpy mattress and the threadbare Ikea bedding that smells unmistakeably of Even. His Even. Who is all relaxed in his arms whilst Isak’s fingers are drawing little circles on the back of his t-shirt.

‘’So, we should keep this simple?’’ Even raises his head and looks at Isak, and Isak can’t help it. He kisses him. A hard-pressed kiss. Slightly desperate. Nothing simple about it at all. Well maybe it is. Just simple.

‘’Yeah. Just keep things simple. Love eachother, and the rest we can figure out as we go along.’’ It’s strange how Isak feels all confident all of a sudden. Like he has got this. He has. Hasn’t he?

‘’I love you. I am just still a little shocked you are here. I didn’t think you would come. And you did. I love that you did. ‘’

‘’I should have told you I was coming.’’ Isak kisses him again. Rolls over so that Even is resting with his forehead against his chest. Arms clumsily around his back.

‘’Nah, you can always come here. I had a key cut for Matteo today. I made a spare one for you, so you could have one if you want it. It’s hung on the hook under the hat rack. Just grab it, It’s yours. ‘’

‘’Thank you.’’ Just the thought makes Isak a little teary eyed. Even gave him a key. ‘’We’re definitely doing this then?’’

‘’This?’’ Even’s face is now all the way up in Isak’s neck. Breathing him in. Smelling him. Sniffing and almost scenting him. Little kisses landing all over his skin. It’s hard to resist, the urge he has of taking his top off. Secretly hoping Even will. Just so they can have some skin. And to be honest he wants to see Even. Feel him. Touch that little curve of his chest. Feel the skin on his hips. The softness of his stomach. He wants it. Quite badly if he’s honest.

‘’Us. Our family.’’ Isak can’t help it, he tugs at Even’s t-shirt. Pulls a little so he can get his hands under the fabric, stroking up over the warm skin on Even’s back. Gripping his fingers around his shoulder.

‘’Yeah. Of course.’’ Even grunts. His voice a little strained.

‘’Good.’’ Isak whispers.

 

They lay there in silence. Just holding onto eachother, the coffee in the cups on the nightstand long gone cold. Just breathing softly and Isak’s eyes are heavy. Like he could go to sleep like this. Sleep solidly, dreamless and heavy, all safe with someone else to look out for him.

‘’Isak?’’ Even whispers. Like he is testing if he is still awake.

‘’Mmm.’’ Isak says back. Letting his hand move around to Even’s hip.

‘’Erh. I just .. Mm..’’

’’What baby?’’

’’Baby.’’ Even’s giggle is cute. ‘’I’m your baby, now am I?’’

‘’Yup. Baby.’’ Isak giggles back. ‘’What’s the matter?’’

‘’Boner won’t go down. I can go sort it out in the bathroom, I just can’t sleep like this.’’

 

The little laugh Isak lets rip is liberating. Poor baby. Oh Even.

 

‘’You are not going anywhere. Even, Jesus, just let me take care of you.’’

‘’You want to do that?’’ It’s sweet, almost too sweet for Isak. Who can’t stop smiling as he rips Even’s shirt over his head, almost gasping at the perfect chest in front of him. Even is smooth. Totally smooth, with dark brown nipples that Isak has an instant urge to lick. Like candy. Fuck him he’s gorgeous. Like he hadn’t always been.

‘’Do you want me to blow you? Or I can just kind of jerk you off.?’’ Isak and small talk. Yeah right. He’s no better at the sex talk. Seriously. He kind of blushes at himself whilst Even looks all unhinged, his eyes dark and stormy and he’s obviously swallowing the words he is desperate to let out.

‘’Fuck. Please. Whatever.’’ He pants and Isak just kisses him. Long and lazily whilst he lets his hand wonder down Even’s chest. Circling the areola around his hard nipples. The softness of the skin making the hairs on his neck stand up. He’s going to have to go slow here, or he might just hump himself shamelessly into an orgasm.

‘’What do you like?’’ He pants whilst his mouth starts a trail of open-mouthed little kisses over Even’s shoulder. Softly licking the skin over his collarbone. Whilst Even is wriggling all over the place, holding Isak’s bicep in a death grip with one hand whilst the other hand is covering his eyes. Almost like he is ashamed of himself.

‘’Even, baby, just relax. Just lie back and let me take care of you, because you are all tense. There’s no need, it’s just me.’’

‘’That’s the problem’’ Even almost whinges out, because this is Isak. This is fucking Isak and Even is about to disgrace himself like a teenager. Not the suave distinguished sex-God of an almost 40-year-old he would prefer to pretend he is.

‘’Shh.’’ Isak snickers. Then he takes Even’s hand and pulls it away from his eyes. ‘’Look at me.’’

 

He does. Thank God.

 

‘’I can’t think of anything I would rather do right now than to just plaster myself all over you and then give you a blowjob until you scream. Honestly Even. You would be doing me a favour. I haven’t had sex in a long time, and you are like my fucking wet dream lying here looking all flustered.’’ He means that. Honestly. Whilst Even squirms.

‘’I’m going to come the minute you go anywhere near my cock.’’ Even pants out. His head spinning. Because having Isak this close. Isak that is now ripping his own t-shirt over his head, exposing a pale muscular chest. Oh fuck. Even is going to come just watching him. The skin moving slowly as Isak re-positions himself, straddling Even’s chest wearing just a pair of orange briefs. Oh fuck.

‘’You are my wet dream. Just look at you Isak.’’ He whimpers and has to swallow again to deal with the saliva pooling in his mouth. Honestly.

‘’What do you want? Even, it’s completely up to you. I won’t do anything that you are not comfortable with, and if you just want to lie here and let me kiss you that is absolutely fine. There are no rules here.’’

 

Fuck you Isak. Even wants to shout it in his face. Don’t ask me, just fucking do it. Anything. Something. Please.

 

‘’Touch me?’’ He croaks out. Begging.

‘’Where?’’ Isak says, quietly, letting his lips bounce softly against Even’s mouth. It drives him crazy. Bloody teasing little shit.

‘’Here!’’ Even almost shouts, grabbing Isak’s hand and slamming it down over his crotch. Making him wince with the sensation of it all. Oh God help him.

‘’Hand job?’’ Isak says carefully. He doesn’t want to scare him, because Even is terrified.

And Isak gets that, from what he knows and what Even is like this is all new and if Even has made the mistake of watching some of the simply awful unrealistic porn that is all over the damn net, then Isak wouldn’t be surprised if Even has all kinds of fucked up ideas of what Isak might want to do to him.

‘’Anything’’ Even says, but Isak can tell. Anything doesn’t mean anything.

‘’Baby.’’ Isak says sternly. ‘’Sex should be fun'' He has to stop himself and run his hand through his hair to kind of find the right words. ''Sex is just ridiculous. It shouldn't be scary or frighten anyone, it should be whatever we want it to be, weird and silly and well. Whatever.''

He smiles. It is. Stupid and awkward yet, kind of hot and sexy, and sometimes a little wild. ''But Even, you have to trust me, I will never ever hurt you or do anything you are not ready for. I’m not going to fuck you, and I won’t let you fuck me until we are good and ready for anything like that, and only if you actually want to. _If_ you want to. We don’t have to do anything, baby, so just let me kiss you and touch you and make you come. Don’t worry about anything else. And feel free to touch me right back, but fuck Even, you don’t have to do anything. All you have to do is lie here and be you, because you are fucking beautiful, and all I want is you. OK?’’

It’s a lot of words to deal with, being Isak. Too many emotions. But it feels right, and Even in some strange way makes Isak feel safe, like he’s OK to just be here. Exist. Just to look after Even like he wishes someone would look after him. Just love him. And get loved back.

‘’I’ve dreamed about having you, like this, naked in my bed, for as long as I can remember, and now that I finally have you here I don’t know what to do.’’ Even almost whispers.

‘’That kind of gives me some massive performance anxiety Even. ‘’ Isak laughs. ‘’I’m no expert, I mean, I’m kind of out of practice.’’

‘’I think I will like whatever we do.’’ Even smiles back, looking a little bit more relaxed. ‘’I just hope I won’t be a disappointment to you.’’

‘’You? A disappointment? I think I should write a book about us, I mean, you have kind been the most over the top funny ridiculous person trying to get me here, and I expect nothing less for the future. You’re going to have to work hard to keep up this thing you have going on. The presents, the chocolate, the over the top text messages that made me cry.’’ Isak lets a little giggle escape. ‘’The sappy shit that comes out of your mouth should make me cringe but I love it. I really do Even.’’

‘’Can’t help it. You just make me feel all these things.’’

‘’Then just let yourself feel baby.’’ Isak whispers back, his mouth back on Even’s lips. Tiny soft kisses against his skin whilst Evens fingers tug at Isak’s hair. ‘’Let me take care of you.’’

So, he does. Because Even is all stretched out underneath him, and Isak kisses his eyes closed. Let’s his fingers stroke over the delicate eyelids to try to emphasize that this is all he needs to do. Relax. Feel. Let go for once.

It’s addictive, the smell of Even’s skin under Isak’s lips. Tiny strokes of his fingertips. Hardened nipples against the tip of his tongue.

He kisses down his stomach, the soft skin moving up and down with Even’s ragged breaths. Wheezy little moans that go straight to Isak’s cock. He loves this, taking someone’s first time, yet this time is different. He almost feels guilty even thinking it, because this is Even, and he doesn’t deserve any of Isak’s fucked up thoughts. Not a single one of them. Because however much he has hated the guy in the past, he can barely remember it right now. All he can see is the man who makes him feel like he is worthy. The man who in a strange way has seen right though him and offered him the world. He loves him, and Isak loves him right back. Which should make Isak want to run away at a million miles an hour, yet Isak doesn’t. He wants to be here. He wants to be loved and belong and give and feel. Just like this.

Even does it himself, skims out of his boxers with a few wriggles, letting his hands fall back on Isak’s shoulders as Isak allows himself to look. Just take in the view beneath him. Even’s stomach taught, moving with short shallow breaths, balls drawn tight nestled in dark pubes, and that cock.

Isak feels like he should revert to religion. Say a swift little prayer to the God Almighty of Cocks who has let him have this, because he wants to thank whoever sent Even back to him. Whoever made him persist, and made Isak see sense, because fucking hell Even has a perfect cock. Long and thick and just the right size to fit into Isak’s mouth it seems. Because Isak doesn’t waste time swallowing him right down to the root, his gag-reflex luckily remembering how to chill out when it comes to having close encounters with nice sized dicks.

‘’Fuuuuucckckkkkk’’ Even screams from above and Isak jerks off in fear. Maybe it was too much, too soon. Maybe…

He doesn’t get to finish that sentence before he gets hit with the first slash of warmth across his cheek. A second one following landing splat on his chin, whilst Isak’s brain finally catches up and swallows Even down for the third hit that coats his tongue with the familiar flavours that make Isak reach down between his own legs. Tug hard.

‘’Me… I want…’’Even pants out, his hand snaking in under Isak’s shoulder, tugging hard. ‘’Up here’’

Oh fuck, yes please. His face is coated in come. His cock already in the game. And Even rolls on top of him with a confidence and force that makes Isak’s head spin. God help him.

There is a warm hand on his dick, firm strokes, little twists around the head with every change of direction. This is definitely not Even’s first rodeo, he fucking knows how to handle a cock. Thank God. Because now Isak is being devoured, his mouth being manhandled by tongue and lips and teeth clashing dangerously against teeth whilst Isak’s hands are on Even’s arse, holding on for dear life as his hips jut against the weight of Even’s thigh, and the assault of body parts scrambling his brain clear of any coherent thoughts.

He comes. Hard. Blinding his senses, for a moment making the universe a black space full of tiny stars, his head full of cotton and all he can do is hold on. His fingers no doubt pressing bruises into Even’s skin as he slowly regains the use of his mind. His mouth. His hands still in their vice like grip on his man.

His. Because Even is his.

‘’We. Are going to have so much fun.’’ He pants out whilst his hand finally regains motion and he rubs his face. Drying come all over his stubbled skin.

‘’That.’’ Even slurs. ‘’Wow.’’

‘’Good Eh?’’ Isak almost laughs. He’s flat on his back, with Even half on top of him, his head resting heavily on Isak’s shoulder.

‘’Awesome’’ Even can’t even speak properly. ‘’Not sure what happened there. Did I come all over you?’’

‘’Yup. And it was hot. You are so damn hot’’ Isak laughs.

Even just smiles. ‘’I have a lot to learn.’’

‘’We both have.’’ Isak says quietly. ’’And we have the rest of our lives to figure things out. ‘’

‘’I’m going to make you so happy.’’ Even raises himself up on his elbow, letting his hand cup Isak’s face. ‘’I’m going to love you so hard Isak Valtersen.’’

And there is that stuff in Isak’s eyes again. The warmth in his chest and the crap that feels dangerously as sobs in his throat.

‘’I can’t wait.’’ He whispers. ‘’And I’m going to love you right back. Make you happy.’’

‘’You already have. I’m so fucking happy you are here.’’

Even lets himself curl back into Isak’s arms, his face in his neck. Hand resting heavily on Isak’s chest. Right over his heart. Almost like he is keeping it safe. His battered bruised heart that is suddenly so full of love that Isak thinks he might explode.

And Isak smiles as he closes his eyes and let’s himself drift. ‘’I love you.’’

He doesn’t say it out loud. The words just sit on his lips as Even places a wet sleep drunk kiss on his neck, his body heavy and warm.

And for the first time in a long time Isak thinks he might be happy. His mouth unable to stop smiling and his head full of the unthinkable.

 

 _Happy_.

 

Awesome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still stupidly busy so can't guarantee a quick next update, just bear with me! 
> 
> At least Evak FINALLY got laid, in freaking long smut chapter. Hope you enjoyed it! x


	31. Lykke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lykken er ofte så kort.  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY! I am so so sorry for the long unexpected hiatus but the kids got sick, we went on holiday, the kids got sick again. Shit happened and the kids all got 'hairpets' and I have just been silently screaming into my hands for the past two weeks. BUT all is now under control and for the first day in weeks I could sit down today and fall head first into the Open Water universe. Bliss.  
> Thank you so much for bearing with me and updates should be coming in weekly now, with the odd bonus chapter. Fingers xxed.  
> The Reverse Big Bang is now in full swing and I am super excited about the artwork I have been entrusted! Yay. So keep your eyes peeled in July for some truly amazing collaborations!  
> Again massive thank you for all your comments, tweets, messages and virtual hugs, much much appreciated. Big kiss. Xxxx

We have our first fight on a Friday. Well I am telling a lie. I want a fight. I want to shout at him. Scream that I’m not a fucking child nor am I helpless and need looking after, and most of all I can look after myself quite fine thank you very much and I don’t need his bloody friends to babysit me.

I don’t. Honestly.

Fuck.

I still love him, and I can’t even bring myself to send him the passive aggressive texts I keep typing out on my phone and then deleting them whilst my face burns with shame and there were even tears at some point.

Its just been one hell of a week, with my Dad behaving like some lovesick twat and every time I have seen him he has either walked around in some blissed-out sex haze, or if Isak is there they are kind of eating each others faces and crazy humping eachother against the kitchen worktop and talking in silly voices and being totally embarrassing. I mean. They are grown-ups. And my Dad is no fucking ‘babe’, and Isak sounds like a dork calling him that. Honestly. I will need to have words.

I hate my life.

I fucking love my life.

Then Isak just won’t go home. I think he has kind of moved in, with far too many pairs of shoes by the door and he mopes around like someone has died if Dad is not home. At least he has left me alone and not tried to have some awkward 'Let's be mates' conversation. Although he did watch Sense8 with me last night before he fell asleep and I had to kick him hard to get him up and off upstairs, so I could kind of chill and panic in peace and quiet.

Which is why I have ended up curled up on the sofa like a baby hoping Matteo will come home before I implode and kick something, whilst I am fully aware that the minute he walks through the front door I will jump him and kiss the living daylights out of him and then probably spend the next 15 minutes blowing him like a starved man, whilst he sits fully clothed on the edge of the bed panting like he has run a marathon.

Yeah. We’re predictable. Permahorny. Thank God for that at least, when it turns out he can be an overbearing arse when he wants to be.

That, and the fact that he spent last night at Hanna’s place which meant I hardly slept and my anxieties got the better of me making me exhausted and pretty much a raging wreck this morning.

It didn’t end well. I should have known better. Instead I said I was fine when he texted me in the morning to say he was at school and couldn’t meet me for lunch because he had to bunk off his afternoon classes for some big rehearsal with his Theatre group. Fine. I was nothing but fine. I was fuming. Raging. Pure raw jealousy pumping through my veins when I knew I should know better. Matteo has a life. Matteo can have friends. Hanna is his best friend. Matteo stays over at Hanna’s place all the time. Matteo sleeps in Hanna’s bed when he stays over. Matteo is gay. Matteo is mine. Matteo doesn’t like girls. Matteo only likes me. Matteo loves me. Matteo is mine. Yeah. You get the picture, it didn’t take much until I was running down the corridor in the A block with tears streaming down my face trying to find somewhere to hide whilst the panic was overwhelming me.

For once I wanted to be alone. For once I didn’t wish Matteo was there to hold me.

Fuck that, I was whispering his name over and over hoping he would come but I still couldn’t bring my fisted-up hands to work enough to find my phone and call him. I knew that’s all it would take. One tap of my finger and he would be running to me. Coming to me. Making everything better.

But then if you haven’t noticed by now I am a stubborn irrational jealous shithead and part of my fucked-up brain just wouldn’t let me back down, hence I ended up outside the A-block toilets behind the last row of lockers, panting into my scrunched-up hoodie whilst my feet where kicking at invisible waves of water with tears streaming down my face.

I wasn’t there for long until Hedda was on my lap. Bloody Hedda. Hedda who has been following me around like a shadow for the last week, almost like she wants to speak to me but doesn’t dare. Well there she was, fighting my arms like some pro wrestler whilst I was trying go get her off me, when she was pretty much determined to hug the shit out of me.

‘’Fucking hell Max.’’ she shouted as I lobbed her one across her chest. Yeah. Nice. I know not to hit girls, but my head apparently isn’t connected to my brain when the panic hits and I was trying to get away from her, which didn’t work. Hedda is fucking strong, and bloody determined when she wants to be. And now I had made her mad. Mad Hedda was not to be fucked with apparently, because she was holding me down with my head squashed against her boobs and that’s when the real fun started.

Yeah. Welcome to my life. I hate my fucking boyfriend.

‘’I promised Matteo to look after you and not let anything happen to you. He also said he would put a link to my fanfiction Tumblr on the school Facebook site if I let you have a panic attack on your own. Ever. I have a reputation Max, so fucking lie still for a minute and let me help you.’’

‘’You. Not. Helping.’’ I had gritted out between my teeth whilst she fought my arms. Which was ridiculous. It never happened like this. My panic attacks have to sort themselves out, I have to calm down. Then I calm down and things get better, but here I was in the throws of one, and funnily enough my body wanted to laugh. It was ridiculous. I was ridiculous. And now there were a couple of year one kids beside us filming on a mobile whilst Hedda had me pinned to the floor like we were making out or something. Of fighting. Or whatever.

‘’What the hell?’’ Yeah. More people. Great. Then I freeze up, because that is definitely Hanna. I know Hanna. Masses of red hair, big boobs and legs that go on for days. I mean I have seen her around, I know who she is and now she is hurling abuse at the year-one kids, who all seriously look like they are about to piss their pants. I’m kind of proud. She is right in their faces screaming at them and waving her mobile around in the air hurling some serious abuse at them, shouting about having some common decency when someone is obviously unwell, and to get help rather than fucking film something that will never see the light of day because they are deleting that footage right here. Right now.

Then there is some blonde dude screaming at the kids too, and he’s grabbing one of their phones and they are all shouting in each other’s faces, and I kind of want to freeze up with fear but Hedda’s boobs are in my face and she is kind of clumsily patting my hair and all I can do is stutter out something like ‘’can’t breathe’’ whilst trying not to laugh.

‘’Don’t punch me’’ she hisses at me as she gingerly eases off my chest. ‘’It fucking hurt.’’

‘’Sorry’’ I kind of pant out and then Hanna is on her knees next to me with her phone to her ear shouting ‘’Hey du Arsch, wieso hebst du nicht ab? Geht’s noch, Alter? Wieso gehst du nicht an dein Scheiß Handy?’’ in my face whilst looking kind of concerned. Feeling my forehead and patting my cheek like some nurse whilst Hedda is still straddling me, bouncing up and down on my crotch which is really uncomfortable but when I try to sit up she just pushes me down and tells me to stay still. I don’t want to stay still. I want to get up. I want to run away and hide not sit here getting freaking molested by girls…and some dude I have never seen before who is now lifting my shoulders up, so he can lay my head in his lap. I am lying in some strange dude’s lap. Fuck me. No don’t.

I should be totally freaking out but instead I kind of spurt out some more ill-advised laughter trying to get Hedda to get off me, whilst she gives me a stern look and tells me she’s staying right here until I feel better.

‘’I would feel much better if you weren’t crushing my legs.’’ I squeal.

‘’You look better, there is a bit of colour in your cheeks. Here. My mum usually has one of these when she’s had a panic attack, they are just fruit sugar. To get some energy in you, because she says she always feels really exhausted after she has had one.’’

That’s the blonde dude, who is now trying to put something between my lips. Sweet. Sickly so but I am too shocked to protest and just accept it, and stare at him whilst the thing slowly fizzes on my tongue.

‘’I’m Sverre’’ the dude says and tries to shake my hand, which from his angle above my head is awkward as hell, but whatever.

''Max'' I croak out whilst drooling sugar from the side of my mouth. Charming.

‘’You’re in Year 3’’ Hedda says.

‘’Yeah, and you are?’’ Sverre reaches out and shakes her hand. Smiling whilst Hedda squirms and kind of blushes.

‘’Hedda. I’m Max’s friend. Well I am supposed to look after him, his boyfriend told me not to leave him alone, but he keeps trying to run away from me, so I must sit on him until Matteo gets here. Hanna where the hell is Matteo?’’

Hanna just shrugs her shoulders and pats my cheek again. Like I am an infant.

I try to protest again and get up but now it’s this Sverre dude who pushes me back down and tells me to chill, whilst Hanna is still screaming in what I am assuming is German down the phone.

‘’Do you have some water? Do you want water? I have a bottle in my bag?’’ Sverre tries, but I just shake my head.

‘’You look better. You are breathing, which is good.’’ Hedda nods appreciatively. ‘’You have French with me next, so I can go with you. ‘’

‘’I need a pee’’ I try. I just want to get away. Be on my own. Get myself back under control without all these crazies around me.

‘’I can go with you’’ Sverre offers.

‘’Are you Gay too?’’ Hedda almost squeals. Clapping her hands with joy.

‘’What? No.’’ Sverre laughs. ‘’Not Gay. But my Auntie is a Lesbian, does that count?’’

‘’Count for what?’’ I snarl. They are ridiculous. All of them.

‘’You could join Queer Nissen! Like in support of your Aunt. It’s really fun, we do all kinds of things. Watch videos. Talk. Read stuff.’’

‘’I don’t think my Aunt needs any support. She’s the toughest woman I know, you know, she works for the fire services and runs triathlons and stuff.’’ Sverre looks a bit confused and bless him, I kind of try not to laugh whilst Hedda smiles like it’s nothing. ‘’You could ask her if there are any good Lesbian movies we could watch? Like really good stories with smut. The girls all like smut. Like sex scenes and stuff, and we all write fanfiction. Do you read fanfiction? Some of it is really good. I can send you some links. Are you on Insta? You should follow me. I’m Hedywritessmut on there, or my other account is for Teen Wolf, it’s pretty awesome, have you seen it?’’

Someone needs to gag Hedda. I would do it myself, but she is kind of holding onto my arms and jumping up and down on my thighs again which is kind of freaking me out.

Whilst Sverre just laughs and shakes his head.

‘’I have no idea what you are talking about.’’ He laughs and looks over at Hanna who finally seems to have calmed down and is talking to someone on the phone. In Norwegian. So, I am assuming it’s not Matteo. I think. I’m confused. I need to get to French. I need a pee. I need a fucking hug from someone who is not Hedda. Or maybe Hedda. I kind of don’t care right now because Hedda looks a little crushed.

‘’You should still come to Queer Nissen, because there are not enough blokes there, us girls need some inspiration. I mean Max here is my main muse, but we are always happy to ship some new couples. Like have you got any hot gay friends you could bring.?’’

Trust Hedda not to give up. I kind of like her, she has no fear, like she just spurts out these things with no regards to what she is actually saying. It’s kind of sweet.

‘’No hot gay friends, what I know of, sorry. But, can I ask you something?’’ He’s kind of nice this Sverre, whoever he is.

‘’Anything’’ Hedda purrs and puffs her chest out, whilst I splutter out another subdued giggle.

‘’Your friend Hanna, is she single?’’ he says quietly and glances over at Hanna who is pacing up and down the hallway.

‘’Hanna?’’ Hedda stutters out. ’’You fancy Hanna?’’

‘’Well…’’ Now Sverre is blushing. I kind of dig this, being totally ignored whilst they are having this embarrassing convo right in my face. ‘’She’s fit. And I have a thing for redheads. But she is always hanging around that skinny bloke with the fringe, are they a thing?’’

‘’Skinny bloke with the fringe is my boyfriend.’’ I snarl, maybe sounding a little too harsh.

‘’He is. Matteo and Max are my OTP. They are so cute, you should see them. All in lurve.’’ Hedda swoons and I feel myself blush a little.

‘’What is an OTP?’’ Sverre is back to that confused look, and I’m kind of craning my neck trying to sit up so I can follow this.

‘’One true pairing, you know couples who are just goals. ‘’ Hedda gushes excitedly. ‘’Matteo loves Max, he told me, Max is the man of his dreams, and he is going to marry him one day. And he told me I have to look after Max here when he is not around, and make sure nothing bad happends to him. It’s my job, kind of like a bodyguard, looking after my friend’s boyfriend.’’ Hedda smiles sweetly at me like I’m a baby and I kind of grimace back at her in disgust.

‘’I’m not a baby Hedda. I am perfectly capable of looking after myself.’’ I grunt at her whilst she pats my head.

‘’Of course, you are, Dickhead. Because lying in a corner having a panic attack on your own is so much more fun then sitting here with a bunch of cool people getting a load of gossip. And hugs. Look, you are getting hugs. Cuddles. MMMMmmm’’

Yeah now I have boobs in my face again fighting with Hedda’s arms trying to get out of the death grip she has around my neck. All whilst Sverre laughs at us. He’s an arse. I have changed my mind about him. Totally.

‘’Matteo is in gym class, Amira is going to go find him and get him to ring you. Are you Ok Max?’’ That’s Hanna. On her knees next to me.

‘’He’s fine now.’’ Hedda says and pats my head.

‘’All good.’’ Sverre says, a-matter-of-factly. Smiling at Hanna. Yeah. He fancies her.

‘’Hanna this is Sverre. You need to go out on a date with him, seriously. He’s really cool. And he is joining Queer Nissen, because his Auntie is a lesbian.’’ Hedda says proudly whilst Sverre looks like he is regretting every life choice he has made in the last 15 minutes.

‘’Really?’’ Hanna laughs, not looking shocked at all. ‘’So Sverre, where are we going on this date? And before you tell me, please tell me you have a hot mate who can put Hedda here out of her misery? I mean she hasn’t got a date for the revue party, and she is kind of desperate.’’ Hanna smiles sweetly at Hedda who suddenly looks like she is out to kill someone. Like Hanna.

‘’Sverre, mate, I am warning you now, Run. Run as fast as you can. These girls are vicious.’’

That’s me. I mean I have seen what these girls can do when they get their heads into something and I have zero doubt that if Sverre stays for a minute longer he will be in the Queer Nissen classroom on Tuesday and on a date with Hanna with no chance of escape. Which is kind of a good idea. Maybe.

‘’Scrap that.’’ I continue whilst they all stare at me. ‘’ Take Hanna on a date. She’s a nice girl. Treat her right or Matteo will have your balls on a plate. And Hanna, he seems like a nice bloke. ‘’ I shrug my shoulders and grin. I have no idea where my bravery is coming from but these people are kind of cool. They are totally cool with me, somehow. Like I can crawl around on the floor in a state, and yet they are still here. Talking to me like nothing is remotely wrong with me. Well, apart from that most of the time they totally talk over my head and Hedda still has her arms around me and I am definitely not into these boob things in my face but. Whatever.

‘’Fuck, Max, we are like super late for French. Totally late. Come on!!’’ Suddenly Hedda is scrambling off the floor, dragging me with her whilst I desperately try to get my rucksack off the ground.

‘’Good to meet you Sverre’’ I kind of hiccup out whilst Hedda gives me a look.

‘’Nice to meet you too Max.’’ Sverre says. Like he means it. Like ’Lets follow eachother on Insta and maybe say hello when we pass in the corridor’ kind of means it. Maybe. I haven’t thought about it before, but he looks nice. Genuine. Whilst Hanna nods politely at me and I try not to shoot daggers with my eyes. She’s OK. But I still hate her. I hate that Matteo loves her. I hate that he slept in her bed and not mine.

‘’You don’t have to look after me.’’ I huff at Hedda as we jog down the stairs, my chest heaving a little with exhaustion. I need a nap. I need a hug. I need my baby to stroke my hair and hold me and whisper ‘I love you Pumpkin’ in my ear.

‘’I know I don’t, but Max, level with me. I like Matteo. I like you. Matteo freaks about you being alone. I like having you around. It’s not like I have loads of friends, and neither do you, so let’s just help eachother out? Let me be this annoying girl who hangs around like a bad smell, and in return I will give you a hug when you need it, and make Matteo feel better knowing you are not alone. That’s all there is. Please. ‘’

She stops and looks at me, and she kind of looks sad. Like she needs a hug as much as I do. She’s bloody annoying, but I still do it. I scoop her up in an awkward hug, full of arms and boobs and girl smells and hairspray and she lets out a little giggle.

‘’BFF’’ She says matter-of-factly. Like I am supposed to understand what all the shit that spills out of her mouth means.

‘’Whatever’’ I smile and lean my back against the heavy door leading into the school yard, holding it open with my body as she skips past me in a flutter of words.

And that’s kind of how the rest of my day goes. Being babysat by Hedda, then Amira then some bloke called Halvor who is apparently in our Drama class but who I can’t remember every having met before, and then Sverre high fives me in the C block corridor and I kind of have a good day. Kind of. Oh yeah, and when I check insta i have like 5 new followers, including this Sverre person, which makes me feel oddly proud. In a weird way.

Because Matteo’s shite piss-take of a mobile has apparently died so he can’t ring me, and his mate’s on Pay-as-you-go and only let him send two texts from his tight-arse phone, but at least I know he is alive and coming home to me tonight. Home. He writes home and my heart goes all fluttery.

I still hold a grudge. I still love him. I still want to scream and shout at him as his key glides into the front door lock and the creak of his footsteps echo through the silence as he tries to sneak in. He’s home. Him. My baby.

I have it all ready in my head. All the reasonable arguments why he hurt me. Why I am upset. Why I have every right to be jealous of his best friend who is a girl, but still gets his attention when I should have it all. It doesn’t make any sense, but neither does the fact that I run barefoot down the hallway in my t shirt and boxers, leaving the blanket off the sofa in a snake-like trail behind me. Neither does the fact that I kind of jump in to his arms and burst into tears like a baby. I sob into his collar. Fist his hoodie and blubber into his neck. All whilst his hands stroke my back and his lips are against my cheek. Whispering little words of comfort whilst my mouth blabbers out a load of bullshit that makes absolutely no sense.

‘’Pumpkin.’’ He says quietly.

‘’Baby’’ I wail.

‘’I’m here now. I’m right here.’’

‘’You weren’t here yesterday. I hated it. I hated that you weren’t here.’’

‘’So bloody clingy’’ he giggles into my ear and kisses my earlobe. ‘’I love that you missed me. Love it. And I missed you too. So So much.’’

‘’I hate Hanna.’’ I say. I don’t mean it. Honestly.

‘’She hates you too. She says you have stolen her best friend and she wants to punch you in the face. Hard’’

He’s smiling.

I am too. Giggling a little. It’s ridiculous.

‘’I love you.’’ I say.

‘’I love you too.’’ He replies. Placing a little kiss on the tip of my nose. ‘’Can I just grab a sandwich and cram it down my neck, and then can I suck your cock for dessert?’’

He doesn’t even blush and I just shrug my shoulders. ‘’I suppose I could let you do that. Maybe.’’

I lean my body against the doorframe whilst Matteo messes around in the fridge. Grabs a roll from the bread basket and sticks a slice of ham between the bread, not even bothering with butter.

‘’I’m still mad at you.’’ I start. I need to say something. Get some of it out, even though I have kind of already forgiven him. I mean just look at him. Smiling at me and breaking off a small piece of bread to pop in my mouth, followed by a feather light kiss.

‘’Absence makes the heart grow fonder.’’ He whispers.

‘’Fuck that. I don’t want any absence. I’m clingy as fuck. I’m kind of pathetically attached to you. I want you with me all the time, and I’m fucking jealous.’’

‘’She’s a girl Pumpkin. She’s my best friend, apart from you. But you come first. Always. You know that don’t you? That you are the one I love?’’

Why does he always say the right things? How can he just look at me and make my legs turn to jelly? How does he stand me? Because I am pathetic. Sad. Jealous. A child.

‘’And I don’t need your friends to look out for me.’’ I stutter out. Whilst he presses his lips to mine. Folds me into one of his hugs. The all-consuming hugs that make me feel safe. Safe and loved and protected and… whole. When it’s him and me. Just him and me. Safe.

‘’Yes, you do. We all need people to love us, and you Pumpkin, are loved. Just let people love you a little. Let people be your friend. ‘’

‘’I don’t need friends.’’ I sulk and kiss him. I suck at arguing. I suck at fighting with my boyfriend, because I am getting absolutely nowhere. Instead my cock is twitching in my pants and my dickhead boyfriend is licking his lips. Cocking his head towards the hallway. Towards my room. Our room.

‘’Blow job?’’ He grins.’’Then after I have licked your balls and had my finger up your hole whilst your cock is hitting the back of my throat and have made you come so hard your head is kind of spinning, then I will explain to you why you need friends. And why I love you. Then after that you might want to let me jerk off all over you, so I can lick cum off your perfect body. Whaddya say Pumpkin?’’

‘’Shut up.’’ I say. But I am smiling. And I kind of run down the hallway dropping my pants on the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massive thank you to LOVETHEM2121 who helped me with the German texts and letters for this chapter. Big hug to you bby!!!


	32. Vår

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Våren er vakker for den som lenge har hatt vinter.  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

Isak almost trips on the staircase in his haste to get through the door.

Which is stupid, but he is kind of desperate.

 

It’s been the strangest week. Strange and weird and he feels kind of out of control emotionally, like he needs to find something stable to cling onto to make everything make sense. In some weird way.

He tried to go home on Wednesday, determined to stay put in his own home and find some peace. A bit of calm in the stormy sea that seems to be his life these days, but as much as he tried, and to be honest he didn’t try very hard, Isak ended up back on Even’s sofa by 8 o clock, watching some strange drama thing on TV with Max huffing slightly at his presence.

Isak couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to be at home. His flat obviously didn’t want him there either, mocking his sheer existence with it’s cold walls and bare fridge and broken TV, when Isak knew full well that Even’s house was warm and full of cosy blankets and weird foods in the fridge and Even’s bed a mess of smelly sheets that seemed to be the only thing that could calm Isak’s nerves these days.

So that is what he had done. Every day. Gone to work. Smiled smugly through his lessons. Done the extra Biology work with Max. Run Queer Nissen with a truckload of laughter and 3 new people who seemed to have fun. Maybe. Well they hadn’t run out in fear, nor started to cry so he kind of felt OK with that. And he sat next to the boys on the way home on Thursday, smiling a little tense smile whilst his head was full of fantasies of this being his life. Him. On his way home from work with his two boys. Wondering if people looked at him and thought that. Dad on the bus with the kids. Dad on the bus with his teenager and the teenager’s boyfriend, who are doing their best to ignore him whilst the Dad is smiling smugly at their not so subtle chatter and lame jokes.

Or maybe people just thought, there sits a middle-aged bloke who is so love starved that he can’t stay away from his new boyfriend’s house even if he knows full well that his poor boyfriend is pulling 15 hour shifts this week, in addition to sitting in on a Night Raven meeting and doing volounteer work, yet the said boyfriend still managed to do a supermarket shop and prepare some chicken thing for dinner tonight, even though he has barely slept today.

Which must be love Isak thinks. Because he fucking loves it.

And in a way he feels a little bit sick, because Isak should have offered. He should have been the one to say; ‘This week I’ll take over. You work, I run dinners and laundry and all that stuff that must need doing that I kind of just take for granted.’

He had promised himself he would do it tonight. Run the washing machine and maybe hoover and change the sheets in their bed.

Yeah, because it is their bed. Even’s bed, that Isak has kind of claimed. He even knows which pillows are better, the one in the blue cover is fluffier than the one in the off white one with the coffee stain on. And to be honest the one on Even’s side with the suspect yellow stain is even better because it smells of Even. Which is kind of why Isak has ended up falling asleep with his face buried in the mess of it all, whimpering softly at the ache in his stomach. He has missed Even, every night. Fallen asleep with his phone in his hand wishing he was there next to him. Wishing he could tell him all the things that are swirling around in his head right now.

Instead he kicks off his shoes and lets the familiar warmth of the house hit him in the face. The smell of coffee lingering in the air mixed with dust and trainers, the mess of bags and shoes on the floor filling him with home comforts rather than irritation. If this had been his house, he would have felt compelled to tidy up. Here, this is what this is. A place where people live. Where Isak feels alive.

‘’Hello?’’ He shouts into thin air. Like an idiot, but hey. It’s Friday. The weekend. And, his heart does a little jolt in his chest, because Even is off. He worked his last night shift for the week last night so tonight, Isak is sleeping in Even’s bed, with Even there. He has already imagined it too many times in his head, the smoothness of Even’s chest against his face. The smell of him tickling his nostrils. And sex. He is so getting some tonight.

‘’Isak?’’ Matteo’s voice is coming from the kitchen where he is stood leaning back against the kitchen counter.

‘’No theatre group tonight?’’ Isak asks, striding across the room, opening the fridge door. Of course. There are small bottles of beer nicely lined up on the top shelf. Something that smells spicy marinating in a bowl on the middle shelf. Sausages in a bag. All things that look inviting and homely and like someone cares. Things that Isak still needs to learn, because he should have thought of that, buying some treats for Friday night. He sometimes treats himself to a small bag of crisps on a Friday, but he has other people to care for now, and he should have thought. Should have thought to make it special, with food and wine and…Fuck. Isak has so much to learn.

‘’No, we have our dress rehearsal tomorrow and then the premiere on Sunday.’’ Matteo says quietly whilst stuffing his face with bread, the butter knife still in his hand.

‘’Premiere?’’ Isak asks whilst grabbing a beer, then putting it back. He needs coffee first. Or water. Or… fuck it. He grabs the beer bottle again.

‘’Yeah. Our new play. It’s only a small venue, and the story is quite gritty and violent. I punch someone at some point and I play a real arsehole, but maybe, do you want to come?’’

He sounds almost shy about it whilst Isak’s face cracks into a smile.

‘’Absolutely.’’ He beams. ‘’Is Even coming?’’

‘’Haven’t asked.’’ Matteo says looking a little embarrassed. Like this isn’t a given. Of course, they are all going.

‘’We are coming. All of us.’’ Isak says a-matter-of-factly. ‘’Just give us a time and a place and we will be there. How exiting! Is that what you think you want to do? Acting?’’

‘’Yeah, but I have to be realistic, like I have to earn money, and I can’t support myself on delivering pizza, and go to Uni and then spend all my time trying to break into something that is pretty much impossible to make a career out of. It’s a dream but I think I am going to go down the Uni way and become a social worker.’’

‘’Wow. That’s a good choice. I think.’’ Isak takes a deep breath. ‘’Social worker.’’ He can feel it on the tip of his tongue, the moral rant and unnecessary advice. Matteo is bright, and he could do so much with his life. He should go for something more challenging with a future full of earnings in the higher tax bracket and a house in a posh area with holidays in far flung places. Isak remembers them well, his own Dad almost foaming at the mouth in rage of Isak throwing his grades away for a mediocre career. His Dad’s words, not his own. He had never been enough. Always a disappointment.

‘’Yeah. I have met loads of really crap social workers in my life, and I kind of know how it all works, so maybe I could become a better one. Someone who has actually lived though it all and seen the system from the other side? I think I could do something good with my life. And I want to be a foster parent as well, so it would kind of all tie up.’’ Matteo grabs another piece of bread, buttering the slice with firm movements.

‘’You can still do acting, go to a few auditions. You should apply to some drama schools too, see how you go. I mean, you need to try these things, because someone must fill those places and you never know. You might just have what it takes?’’ Isak takes a long gulp out of his bottle, letting himself lean back against the worktop as Matteo shoves another piece of bread in his mouth.

‘’Sorry, so fucking hungry.’’ He mumbles between chewing and crumbs escaping from his mouth.

‘’Chill.’’ Isak laughs softly. ‘’It’s only food. Eat.’’

‘’Yeah, but it’s not even my food. I just turn up here and the fridge is full and I kind of lose the plot. I’m going to get fat living here.’’

‘’You’re still growing, don’t fret about it. If you are hungry, then eat.’’ Isak smiles and steals the last of Matteo’s bread, earning himself an angry stare as Matteo grabs another slice and starts buttering it.

‘’Do I get a beer to go with my bread?’’ Matteo asks, cheekily. Winking. Whilst Isak just smiles and opens the fridge door.

‘’One.’’ He says sternly. ‘’And I don’t even want to think about the shit I would get into if work found out I am giving my students alcohol.’’

‘’You are far too uptight about this whole thing Isak. Come on. You have a boyfriend. You can have a boyfriend, it’s not illegal or anything, and the beer, it’s not like I’m complaining, is it?’’ Matteo laughs and takes a gulp out of the bottle. ‘’So, you think I should apply for a drama school?’’

Isak just smiles. ‘’Absolutely. I mean, I applied for all kinds of things, things I fancied studying and things that people expected me to study. I had good grades and I got accepted at Medical school, but I chose teaching because that is what _I_ really wanted to do. It was the right choice for me, it will never make me rich or famous, but it has kind of been something that has made me happy. You need to love what you do otherwise you will end up in this awful Monday to Friday hell where you live for the weekends and it is tiring and draining. You need to do what makes you happy, and if acting is what makes you happy you should at least try. You can always study Social work later. If you want help just ask, I am more than happy to sit down and hash it all out with you next year.’’

‘’Thanks’’ Matteo almost whispers, and he looks down again. Placing the butter knife quietly on the table.

‘’I’m always here if you need me.’’ Isak says quietly. ‘’I may be your teacher, but I am human too, and I am your friend. Always. Don’t forget that.’’

‘’I know.’’ Matteo almost whispers.

‘’Is everything else OK?’’ Isak asks carefully. Not wanting to pry, but the kid is trembling a little, his hands struggling to put the clip back on the bag of bread.

‘’Yeah. Just a bit overwhelming. I kind of have gone from having nothing to suddenly having everything. I’m just happy Isak. I’m really fucking happy.’’

He doesn’t know what to say back to that. Honestly. Because he knows exactly where the kid is coming from as he wraps him up in a hug. All awkward backslaps and angles and arms, but it’s a hug. It’s something. And Isak couldn’t have said it better himself. He’s fucking happy too.

Even is standing by the side of the bed as Isak carefully pushes the bedroom door open, trying to be quiet, just in case Even was still asleep. Which he is not. But he is there. His Even. Trying to step into his joggers whilst giving Isak the most blinding smile.

 

Isak should play it cool. Really. Say something quirky and funny and make himself look suave. Cool and happy and easy going. But chill is the last thing on Isak’s mind, because it has been a week. And yes, he has seen Even every day, but it has been brief moments between Isak coming back from work and Even going in for a night shift, quiet chatter over a rushed meal, trying to find a moment of intimacy between the boys rumbling around in the house and the heady kisses in the kitchen that they both know wouldn’t turn into anything more. They just hadn’t had the time. Nor had they been quite ready to turn it into anything else, that quiet shyness back between them as they had ground awkwardly into eachother before stopping themselves to calm down.

 

Because kissing Even has been something else. Nothing like Isak has ever felt before, and he has thought about it all week, what it is that is different with Even. He feels the excitement, the rush of it all being new. But he feels safe, and that is the last thing he ever thought he would feel. He doesn’t doubt a thing when he is here, he knows where Even stands. Knows that he loves him and wants him and will care and protect him and hold him and hug him without a care in the world, and that is what is making Isak’s heart beat a little faster as he just stands there with a smile on his face.

 

Today there is no rush. No shift to clock into and no pressure to get dinner on the table or deal with the boys. Nothing. Just them. Standing here. Even with his joggers hanging low off his hips. Isak with his hands in his pockets.

 

‘’Hi Babe.’’ Isak almost whispers.

 

The steps Even takes from the other side of the room seem like they are happening in slow motion, when in reality it’s just a few steps until his lips are on Isak’s. His arms around his neck. Fingers in his hair. Tongue in Isak’s mouth.

 

They stumble backwards into the wall, hitting the plasterboard with a thud. Not that it matters because Isak’s brain is full of cotton and the noises he makes are not his own anymore.

 

‘’Fuck.’’ He squeals and starts tugging on the t-shirt on Even’s shoulders. Because this is only going to go one way. He’s not stopping now. Not when he meets Even’s eyes again.

 

The look he gets is wild. Unhinged. Desperate with need and lust.

 

It’s a heady feeling. It was one thing to be told you are loved. But he is wanted. Needed. Craved, and that is doing things to Isak’s head. Like he is finally out of the haze.

 

He puts his hands firmly on Even’s shoulders, pushing him in front of him until his legs are against the side of the bed.

.

‘’Need you’’ he snarls as he rips the t-shirt over Even’s head.

 

Fuck. He’s beautiful. That smooth chest, with those plump nipples just begging for Isak’s mouth.

 

And Even actually gnarls. Whines like an injured animal when Isak sucks his mouth onto his neck. It’s long overdue, having Even like this. Slammed down onto the bed and Isak’s fingers ripping at his clothes. Tugging at the damn joggers. His fingernails catching skin when they find the thin boxers. Tugging and grasping. Needing.

 

‘’Fuck’’ Even pants. ‘’Oh fuck.’’

 

They don’t get there fast enough, Isak’s jeans are coming off with a few sharp tugs, whilst Even grabs his waist and slams him face down onto the mattress, chest against the cool sheet whilst Even’s mouth bites into his shoulder. Hands slow along his back, fingers grazing over his bare skin.

 

‘’God, Even.’’ Isak pants and tries to slide upwards on the bed, hoping Even’s hand will end up where he needs it. There is a very prominent boner pushing against his back, and Isak’s body is begging for friction, humping the bed with jerked movements.

 

‘’Just’’ Even whispers. ‘’I can’t.’’ His breath is hitched. His hair all over the place as he rolls over on Isak’s side, his cheek stroking against the skin on his back, deep breaths escaping his mouth.

 

‘’I’ve been dreaming of being able to do this with you’’ Even whispers. ‘’Just to touch you, like this. Oh Isak.’’

 

Isak doesn’t reply. Just lets his hands wrap around Even’s face. Takes his lips. Presses gently. Tastes. Nudges. Licks. Sweeps his tongue over Even’s mouth. Greets his tongue with his own. Let’s himself fall in love with this man all over again.

 

They tumble ungracefully around on the bed, all legs and arms. Lips never losing touch. Noses pressed against one another’s. Legs wrapped tightly. Arms around each other like they can’t bear to let go. Rubbing and grinding with desperate movements neither of them seem to be able to control. Like they are both trying to lead in a desperate dance of getting under each other’s skin.

 

‘’Fuck, I’m gonna...’’ Even whimpers.

‘’Then come,’’ Isak whispers. ‘’Just come for me.’’

 

There is no space between them, no space for Isak’s hand trying to get close enough to grip Even’s cock, whilst rolling them both onto their sides. Even still kissing Isak, one hand tugging at his hair, the other firmly holding his body against his own. Chest to chest. Their heartbeats thumping hard against each other.as he wraps his legs around Even’s waist. Humping right back into him.

 

‘’Come baby. Just do it. Come for me.’’ Isak can barely get the words out as Even’s lips cover his mouth. Holding firm as his body goes rigid. The orgasm ripping through him like a hurricane.

 

‘’Oh, shit!’’ Even roars. And Isak catches him. Holds his face in between his hands. Kisses the words out of his mouth.

‘’I’ve got you,’’ he whispers. ‘’I’ve got you’’

 

Even just pants. Breathes faster than he should, trying to swallow when his throat is probably as dry as Isak’s.

 

He didn’t mean to, but oh god. He just basically ripped Even’s clothes off and pushed him into bed and humped him into an orgasm. And fucking hell. It’s mind boggling. Because this. This here.

 

This is right where he belongs, he has no doubts left in his mind. He gets it now. He can almost hear Even’s words in his head, his voice telling him how he loves him, even though he is right there breathing silently into Isak’s mouth.

 

Because this, in all its imperfection, is perfect. They are sweaty and drunk on emotions, all tangled up in knots, skin against skin like they haven’t got a care in the world, when only a few weeks ago Isak thought his life was a mess. His life is not a mess. Not here. Not right now.

 

‘’I’ve been so lonely. I’ve been so fucking lonely.’’ Isak whispers.

 

He doesn’t know where the words are coming from. Just that he just said them, and that he just realized that they are true. He has been so alone. And now he is not and it makes him all choked up. He’s not alone because Even is right here and his eyes are full of awe and amazement that Isak kisses right up from his skin. Soft kisses landing gently back on his own face.

 

‘’Isak,’’ Even whispers back. ‘’You are not alone. You have me. You’ll always have me.’’

‘’Can I just stay here forever? Just lie here with you like this?’’ Yeah, Isak needs to stop talking, because his brain has gone all fluffy, full of emotions he definitley shouldn’t turn into words.

‘’I think we can do better than that, I think you should live here. Never leave. Just stay.’’ Even is serious. He’s bloody serious. His voice all stern and determined.

‘’I can do that.’’ Isak grin is ridiculous. Stupid. His heart jolting around in his chest. ‘’It’s not the way you should do things, is it though?’’ He almost chuckles out. ‘’I shouldn’t be moving in with you after a few weeks. It’s crazy Even.’’

‘’Who the hell cares?’’ Even laughs back in his face. ‘’We have wasted years when we could have made eachother happy. We’re happy. Move in. Live with me. Why the hell should we miss eachother when we don’t have to Isak? That is crazy. Moving in here isn’t. It would be amazing. Do it. Please do it. ‘’

‘’Ok.’’ Isak says softly whilst he doesn’t seem to be able to stop smiling. ‘’I’ll move in here. With you.’’

 

They lie there, warm bodies bathed in sweat. Isak still flushed. Even smiling until his cheeks seem to hurt.

 

‘’Sorry, I’m so sorry babe, you never came!’’ Even suddenly shrieks out, as his fingers grip Isak’s still hard cock. ‘’I didn’t last very long, you kind of killed me there.’’

‘’Doesn’t matter,’’ Isak smiles.

‘’Can I?’’ Even swallows. Looks a little confused again. Frightened. Like he doesn’t know If Isak will let him.

‘’What do you want to do?’’ To to be honest Isak would let him do anything. Anything he wants.

 

But Even just smiles. Presses a hard kiss to Isak’s lips and moves his face into Isak’s neck. Trails kisses down his stomach. Soft and wet against Isak’s skin, making him shiver.

He doesn’t stop. Keeps his mouth moving, almost methodical, covering every little inch of Isak’s body. Every little muscle and bone getting kissed, until his face is buried in Isak’s groin, his cheek stroking against Isak’s cock. Hard and red jutting out from in between course strands of hair. Soft blows on his balls. Licks up his shaft.

 

Isak groans softly. He’s not going to last. It’s been a while for him, a long dry spell since someone last looked after him like this.

 

‘’Can I?’’ Even whispers from between his legs.

‘’Anything,’’ Isak pants back. Honestly.

 

So, Even swallows him down. Right down. Hot warm wet mouth on Isak’s rock hard cock. It doesn’t get any better than this. Soft eager movements and those little humming noises that go straight to where Isak needs them. His hips trying to fuck into Even’s mouth against the hands on his stomach trying to hold him down.

 

And Isak screams as he comes. Shoots like he couldn’t stop himself if he tried. His hips arching off the bed humping into Even’s mouth as his orgasm blinds him. His brain full of darkness, his mouth trying to smile when he’s probably just grimacing. Not that he cares.

 

His voice is making the most ridiculous sounds, as his head arches back into the pillows. And Isak just lies there on the bed on his back panting desperately whilst Even falls onto his shoulder with a smug grin on his face.

 

‘’I’ve never done that before,’’ he smiles cheekily. ‘’I have never sucked anyone’s cock before. Was it OK?’’

 

And Isak just smiles back. Smiles like he can’t stop.

 

‘’You were awesome.’’ He slurs. His head still a little fuzzy. His thoughts clouded in fog.

 

‘’Good’’ Even says proudly. whilst he tugs at him like he wants to get closer. Trying to wrap the duvet around their bodies. ‘’I read up on it, I hope I didn’t use my teeth.’’

 

‘’Did you like it?.’’ Isak laughs whilst he turns his head. Rolls his body until they are back where he belongs. Chest to chest. Heart to heart. Lips on lips.

 

‘’A bit salty. And you are big. Sexy though. Fucking hot.’’ Even nuzzles into Isak’s neck, drooling lazily onto his skin. Little wet trails where his mouth has touched him. ‘’I will need some lessons, how to suck cock. Properly.’’

 

 ‘’You don’t need bloody lessons. It was perfect, because it was you. Just perfect. I love you Even. I love you so much.’’

 

 It’s the adrenaline talking. Pheromones. He’s high on this. On sex and love. On Even.

 

‘’Of course you do, babe.‘’ Even giggles back. ‘’I just blew you, didn’t I?’’

 

‘’Idiot.’’ Isak says and buries his face in the mess of hair in front of him. Kisses the forehead of the ridiculous man in his arms.

 

‘’I may be an idiot, but I’m your fucking idiot.’’

 

‘’You are. Mine’’

 

‘’And I mean it. Don’t ever leave. Stay. Stay with me. Because we are never going to be lonely again Isak.’’

 

His voice is barely there, suddenly thick with emotion.

 

‘’I love you’’ Isak says back, and he means it. He fucking means it. He’s happy. He’s so very very happy.


	33. Barnlighet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Den største mann på jorden  
> må pleie barnet i sitt bryst  
> og lytte, selv i torden,  
> til hva det hvisker tyst.  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

33

‘’Dad’’ Max says quietly as he steps into his trainers at the front door. They are late, as always.

Not that it’s Max’s fault, because Max was ready to go an hour ago, sitting nervously on the sofa chewing his fingernails. Isak was kind of ready too, wearing clothes.

Then suddenly he wasn’t and Even wasn’t either and it was all a blur of want and need and sex and Even’s head is kind of spinning a little at the thought of what he just did. He kind of choked all over Isak’s cock and then Isak was tugging at his hair and he could feel the head of the cock in his mouth swelling and pulsing and….

‘’Dad...” Yeah, Max is annoyed now. Rightly so.

‘’You kind of glazed over there, are you OK?’’ His son looks seriously concerned, if just for a second before this big shit eating grin spreads over his face. ‘’You were thinking of sex.’’ He says. Like it’s normal.

‘’Was not.’’ Even retaliates, sounding like a child. His bottom lip curling and his hand automatically adjusting his tackle. Yeah. Right.

‘’Cock sucking going OK?’’ Max giggles, not even being discreet about the fact that Isak is in the toilet right next to them.

‘’Shut it.’’ Even huffs. He’s still grinning though. I mean hello. Cock sucking is fun. Lots of fun. He needs to work on taking Isak all the way down, and that swallowing around the head thing he read about. Also, he needs to work on not gagging, because that shit is not sexy.

 

‘’I can send you some links to some good porn if you need help?’’ Max offers and winks as Isak throws himself out through the bathroom door, smelling of toothpaste and soap. Stomping around in a circle looking for his shoes.

‘’Thanks, but no thanks. I would rather not know what kind of porn you watch. That is like. Too much information. ‘’ Even stutters whilst Isak’s face looks a little pink.

He’s so cute. He is so fucking cute.

 

‘’You do realize porn is totally unrealistic shite, edited to make people think that that is how things should be. Real life is nothing like that.’’ Isak starts, then stops. His face flushed scarlet.

‘’I know that Isak, I do have sex you know.’’ Max grunts out and pulls his snapback down over his face. Whilst Even let’s a strangled giggle escape.

 

‘’The bus leaves in like 6 minutes, can we get going?’’ He says sternly, because someone has to take control, and if Isak doesn’t stop blushing and biting his bottom lip then Even might have to dry hump him by the bus stop and that is not going to end well.

‘’Fuck my phone is upstairs’’ Isak groans and runs up the stairs with his shoes still on whilst Max screams ‘’No fucking shoes in the house’’ and Even’s watch now shows the bus arriving in 4 minutes.

‘’Let’s go!!’’ He shouts, whilst Max walks out the door, jumping down the six steps in one crazy looking stunt jump, his arm resting casually on the railing.

‘’Coming!!’’ Isak’s footfall thunders down the stairs and the door slams behind him as Even fishes out a cigarette from his coat pocket. It’s habit and the feel of the paper in his hand makes him jolt.

 

‘’You promised.’’ Max warns.

He did as well. This morning. Fuck.

‘’I didn’t realize I still had a packet in this coat.’’ He tries. Lamely. He didn’t think. Honestly.

‘’Isak, Dad has made a deal with me. No more smoking. It stopped this morning. I haven’t had a cigarette for days now, and I feel OK. He can do it, but you need to help me police him because Dad is the freaking master of the sneaky cigarette. He even smoked on the plane when we flew to Trondheim, and they didn’t catch him.’’

‘’Even, that is dangerous. Don’t do that again.’’ Isak grunts.

‘’Sorry’’ Even says again. He seems to say ‘Sorry’ a lot today. Sorry for coming too quickly again, because I can’t control this urge I have to hump you into oblivion. Sorry for choking on your dick. Sorry for not swallowing down all your cum and ruining your clean jeans when I drooled all over them. Sorry. And yeah. Sorry. I shouldn’t smoke.

 

‘’Isak, here.’’ He throws the packet of cigarettes to Isak. ‘’Get rid of them.’’

 

He doesn’t sound convinced, almost wanting to grab them back. Stick one in his mouth for safety. Just one last one.

‘’I’m proud of you. Of you both. That’s amazing.’’ Isak huffs as he throws the packet casually into the neighbours bin, as Max starts running. The bus is turning onto the road and they are late. They are so so late.

 

At least it’s almost empty, as they climb on board, making their way to the seats at the back, sharing the bus with a lonely pensioner at the front and a couple with a pram in the middle.

‘’Dad.’’ Max says again as he slumps down on the double seat in front of Even. Isak perched almost nervously next to him.

‘’Max.’’ Even says back. He wishes he had something to put in his mouth. He needs something to dangle from his lips. Something to do with his hands.

‘’I have been thinking.’’ Max says quietly.

‘’Thinking is good.’’ Even replies. He grabs Isak’s hand. Holds it tight.

‘’Is this OK?’’ He whispers, looking at Isak from under his fringe.

‘’What?’’ Isak says nervously.

‘’Holding your hand?’’

‘’You want to?’’

‘’I am holding your hand. In public. Like were together. Because we are. ‘’ Even says sternly. They are. And he loves it.

‘’I…’’ Isak starts. ‘’I think so.’’

‘’Think so?’’ Max says whilst giving Isak a look.

‘’Yeah, I….’’ Isak takes a deep breath. ‘’Everyone I have been with have either been in the closet, or ashamed of being seen to be with me. No, that sounded wrong. Everyone I have been with have kind of been new to the whole being with another man thing, and we were never open in public, with what we were to eachother. It just kind of threw me. It just dawned on me that I have never done this, held someone’s hand on the bus. Kissed in public.’’

‘’I love when you blush’’ Even says quietly. Which makes Isak’s face even redder. He loves it. Even absolutely loves it. Loves this man who just keeps surprising him with his little truths. His ridiculous statements. His love. His fingers that are quietly stroking Even’s skin. ‘’And kissing in public is a must. I don’t give a fuck if people don’t like it. I am with you. I am in love with you. You are my partner and if I want to kiss you I damn well will.’’

So, he does. Smashes on right on Isak’s lips, almost making him fall off the seat.

‘’Wow’’ Max says, sitting up in his seat. ‘’Respect Dad.’’

Yeah. Now Even is blushing a little too. Not only did his son compliment him but Isak looks like he wants to eat him and that is hot. A little too hot. Which makes Even eternally grateful he is wearing a coat. Despite it being warm outside. He hasn’t got a clue why he brought the coat. He hasn’t got a clue about anything, his brain a mess of fluff and clouds and ….Yeah. Isak.

‘’So, Dad, when you have finished eye-fucking Isak here, can I ask you something?’’

‘’Sorry Max, of course. What did you want to ask?’’ Even needs to get a grip. Even needs another kiss. Even needs. Fuck Even needs to push Isak back against the door of the moving bus and palm his cock through those tight jeans he is wearing and maybe suck another mark into his neck. Tempting. So bloody tempting.

‘’Dad!!’’

‘’Even. Concentrate’’ Even Isak is laughing at him, being all unhinged and confused.

‘’Ok. I’m listening.’’ He is. Honestly.

‘’Do you remember you told me about this therapist specializing in Anxiety and something about some ground-breaking stuff you thought I should look into?’’

‘’Yes. Dr Bjulsen. She’s good. Experimental but has had good results. ‘’ Even nods.

‘’Can you make me an appointment? ‘’

‘’Of course. Absolutely. Is there any reason why? Do you feel especially anxious right now?’’

‘’Chill Dad. I’m fine. Calm. Fine. Sleeping well. ‘’ Max lets out a small laugh. ‘’I just think I need to try to get better. It’s not just for me but Matteo, he can’t be the one to look after me all the time, I need to get better, so he can relax around me. I kind of realized that the other day, because he’s not as strong as he seems. So, I thought If I can get better, he won’t have to worry so much. If you see what I mean.’’

Max looks a little sad. Looking down at his hands as the bus turns a steep corner.

‘’Max. Look at me.’’ Even says quietly. ‘’There are never any guarantees, we both know that, but you taking steps to try to get better is fantastic. We have to be realistic, it might trigger all kinds of things at first, and be really hard, but you know this, and I am talking out of my arse again. Sorry. I will book you an appointment. Consider it done. ‘’

‘’Will you come with me?’’ Max says and for a moment Even only sees the child. A frightened little boy, who is just everything. Everything in the world to him.

‘’You know what?’’ Even says slowly. Stopping for a second to think. ‘’I think. Maybe. I think you should take Matteo with you. Not that I don’t want to come, but he will probably feel much better knowing what it is you go through. Maybe it will even do him some good learning more about how you function. ‘’

‘’Yeah..’’ Max says slowly, deep in thought. ‘’Do you think Matteo should go see someone too?’’

‘’In my professional opinion, and from what I know about him, I have views on what I would like to see him do, but it is not my place to tell him that. It’s his choice. ‘’ Even has already looked up the best grief councillor in Oslo, and enquired about taking on a new patient, because he just can’t help himself. He wouldn’t do anything else right now, he’s not stupid. It has to be Matteo’s choice, he just wants to be prepared. Ready for when he asks. If he ever would.

‘’Thanks Dad.’’ Max says quietly.

‘’Next stop is ours!’’ Isak proclaims cheerily. And Even finds a pen in his pocket that he furiously sticks in his mouth. Sucks on the tip like it’s a dummy. A foul tasting metallic plastic tasting dummy. At least it helps. A little.

 

He has always been proud of his son. Ridiculously proud. But Max is just beaming as the lights go up, the small auditorium all on their feet cheering at the actors on stage. Isak wiping a tear from his eye and giving Even an embarrassed grin.

‘’Got something in my eye’’ he laughs, reaching down for the hem of his T-shirt to wipe the moisture from his cheek.

‘’Yeah, me too.’’ Even giggles. He’s so proud. So fucking Proud.

‘’God, he was fucking awesome!” Max pulls his hands through his hair. Looking nervously at the stage where the actors are still milling around, now being greeted by the audience, lots of hugs from family obviously. Friends shaking hands.

‘’He was brilliant. When he threw that punch, I was holding my breath.’’ Isak says and pushes through the chairs. ‘’Come on. Let’s go and hug the shit out of him.’’

‘’Me first.’’ Max says with a grin, pushing Isak out of the way. ‘’He’s mine.’’

 

They hang back, letting Max do his thing. Lifting Matteo high of the ground and swinging him around. Yeah, Even is proud. So fucking proud.

Because he is standing here with his arm around Isak’s neck as his son is laughing and gesticulating with his hands, smiling and actually talking to one of the other actors. Shaking his hand. Like a… Even almost thinks… Normal person. Because he has never seen Max like this. Confident almost. Like being with Matteo, being the one that belongs to Matteo, has given him a new boost.

‘’He’s growing up.’’ He says out loud.

‘’Who? Max?’’ Isak says quietly, placing a kiss on Even’s cheek. ‘’I can do that? Kiss you? In public?’’ He says almost in awe. Like it’s unbelievable.

‘’Always.’’ Even says back. ‘’You can always kiss me. Hold me. Hug me. Hold my hand. I want to do everything with you, and I am incredibly proud of you too Isak. You. Being with me. It makes me insanely happy. ‘’

And Isak just smiles. The smile he can’t seem to stop smiling as Matteo introduces the two of them to his director, as his ‘’Dads’’ making Max curl into a ball of embarrassment.

‘’You are though’’ Matteo laughs. ‘’Max said we should share everything, so I assumed that meant his Dads too? You’re now my Dads. I didn’t make the rules.’’ He shrugs his shoulders and earns a punch on the arm from Max, swiftly followed by his son jumping up in his boyfriend’s arms. Planting one on him right there on the stage.

‘’We should go and celebrate.’’ Isak says tugging at Even’s arms. ‘’Let’s go and have a drink somewhere. Toast to our sons, and the best actor on stage tonight, because let’s face it, I didn’t even look at the others. He was kind of mesmerizing. ‘’

‘’He was fantastic.’’ Even says slowly. ‘’And yeah. Let’s go celebrate. Good call.’’

‘’Champagne?’’ Isak says softly, nuzzling quietly into a hug.

‘’Nah. Beer. Good beer somewhere we can sit and talk. ‘’

‘’Beer. Sounds good.’’

‘’Very good.’’

‘’Dad’s eh?’’ Isak laughs quietly, pulling his hand through his hair.

‘’Max is right though’’ Even says, letting his lips press against Isak’s. ‘’We share everything. From now on, what is mine is yours and what’s yours is mine.’’

‘’Well you can have my flat, because I’m not going back there.’’ Isak says and wraps his arms around Even’s waist.

‘’Good.’’ Even says back. ‘’Then let’s get some beers and then go home. All of us.’’

‘’Home’’ Isak whispers into his neck. ‘’Maybe... let’s just go home. Snuggle on the sofa and order pizza and just be us. Can we do that?’’

‘’Is that what you want?’’ Even says quietly into his hair.

‘’Get a room’’ Matteo grins as he drags Max towards them. ‘’The guys are going out to celebrate, so Max and I will see you later tonight. Thanks for coming, it was really cool that you did.’’

He looks a little bit choked up. Emotional. Tired. Happy.

‘’Have a good time. We will see you at home then?’’

Home. It’s always been home, but now? It’s home. A real home. Full of people and love and… Even can’t even find the words. He hugs Matteo. Ruffles his hair and plants a kiss on the boy’s head. Grabs his son, who huffs a little as he pulls him in.

‘’I love you kid.’’ He says it out of habit, but he means it. Fuck he loves this kid so damn much.

It’s almost inaudible, but he hears it. The voice soft against his chest.

‘’Love you too Dad.’’

 

He stands there watching them leave, too choked up to move. It’s too much. Too much emotion. Too many words swirling around in his head. Too many feelings trying to find a home in his mess of a heart.

Home. It’s wherever Isak is. And right now, it’s right here, on the dusty floor beneath a small stage, where Isak is resting his head against his shoulder.

‘’Let’s go home.’’ Isak whispers.

So, they do.


	34. Sommer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Og tidlig, tidlig er det på sommer'n  
> men rop på høsten, så kommer'n.  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

 

 

_a few months later.._

 

I can feel his fingers against my skin before I am even fully awake. The little patterns he paints with his fingertips against my arm. Soft flicks of his fingernails against my top lip as his finger trails along my mouth. The way the bed dips slightly as he lays himself down under the covers next to me.

He smells of the outdoors. Of buses and dirt and sweat and rain. Summer smells coming through. Maybe a hint of beer on his breath.

‘’Did you have a good time?’’ I ask drowsily.

‘’Mmm. Missed you though.’’ He whispers back whilst his hand cups my face. His lips pressing softly against mine whilst he shuffles his body closer to mine.

He’s naked.

There is skin against my chest, his arms pulling me in closer as we do that little shuffle we do to get comfortable, where his forehead usually ends up against my chest, my chin resting on the top of his hair and our arms tangle around until we are tied up in knots in eachother. Arms and legs and toes and fingers twisting. Skin against skin. Well apart from Matteo’s chest which is almost always covered in a t shirt of some kind. But not today.

He’s naked.

It’s a little dizzying having him like this.

It’s not the first time, but it still throws me. That he’s having a good day and he knows where he has me. He knows how loved he is. How much I love him when he lets me have him like this. All of him. Whole. Him being whole makes me feel whole. Like we can do this. Like whatever is happening right now will just be a little blip in the great scheme of things.

‘’How are you feeling?’’ He asks quietly.

I know why he is asking. And to be honest I have no answer to give. Nothing concrete to explain. Nothing that I can say to make this easier. Because it is coming.

He knows it as well as I do. Dad knows. Isak knows. They are all watching me like I am about to explode into some kind of human disaster.

I don’t blame them, because all the signs are there. I haven’t slept for a week. I haven’t left the house for days because I can barely stand up in the mornings, and I am all over the place. I am a fucking master of laying fake wooden flooring. I have tiled half of the new kitchen downstairs, with a mishmash of leftover tiles from some friend of Isak’s. I have made a fucking mess of Matteo’s carefully drawn plans for the veranda, but I don’t fucking care right now. Right now he is right here. He is here with me. His skin against mine and his heart beating hard against my chest. His heart that is beating strong enough for the two of us.

‘’I’m good.’’ I whisper back. I am. Right now, I am floating somewhere inbetween being me and being lost and being out of control, so right now I am good. Because he is holding me together. Living for me. Holding me. Kissing little soft kisses into my tired skin.

‘’It’s OK.’’ He whispers back. ‘’You know it will all be OK. I’m here. I’m always here.’’

‘’I know you are. And I am here too. I’m right here.’’

His hips grind a little against my leg. Just a small movement but it lights me up like a firework. Like I go from zero to everything in seconds when my body can barely keep up. I am too tired to move but my fucking cock is apparently ready to roll. Well quelle surprise really. Especially with Matteo. Because however messed up my life is right now, it’s still good. It’s all good.

 

 

Isak never left. He just stayed. Like this was his life now, and we were part of the great Isak show with no choice if we liked it or not. One afternoon we just had another mismatched bookshelf in the living room. The next day it was full of books. The kitchen gained a few more random things. The hallway overflowed with shoes and the hat rack fell off the wall under the weight of coats and jackets. Again. Then I came home and almost killed myself tripping over Jonas Vasquez standing in the hallway holding the biggest power drill I have ever seen. The hat rack is firmly attached to the wall these days, and the loose plank in on the veranda mysteriously isn’t lose any more.

Matteo picked up his things from Tøyenhagen on a Friday afternoon, and Dad took him to see social services to collect the last of his paperwork declaring him a free man. An adult. A human with his own life to live. He cried all the way home in the damn carpool-car that smelled of air freshener and mint chewing gum. Dad mopped up his tears whilst I sat in the back and shivered with held back emotions. I couldn’t. It was big. It was a big day. We had dinner at some posh waterside hotel and toasted in Champagne whilst Isak raved about some TV show we needed to watch with him, Dad laid out his great plans for starting a new charity and Matteo sat there like someone had died. Like something was seriously wrong.

It took a few days until he spoke to me. Until he sat down at the kitchen table and started laying the papers on the table, piles of papers and then more papers. Bank statements and lawyers letters and copies of things with his parents’ names on and stuff I could barely comprehend.

Yeah and Dad cried again. And Isak used swearwords that frightened me coming out of his mouth.

It had been weird. Strange. Indescribable. Yet Matteo still held me every night like he was about to fall apart. And I held him back. Like he is holding me now. Like I held him when he needed me. Tightly wound into eachother like we were about to crumble to dust if we didn’t hold on tight enough.

That Friday night was the first night I fucked him. I don’t know why it took us so long to have sex, properly, but at the time we didn’t question it. Just messing around with our hands and mouths had kept us more than satisfied until that night. The night when he needed to be reminded of who he really was. That he was mine. My partner. My baby. My everything.

I don’t remember even asking if it was OK, or if it was something he wanted. I just felt like I needed to claim him. Take him. Make sure he knew exactly where he belonged. Right here. With me.

My fingers had just worked him over, lube everywhere, my mouth clamped over his dick until he didn’t know how to speak anymore, just sounds and grunts coming out of his mouth whilst I fucked my fingers inside him. I didn’t know what I was doing, only that I needed this as much as he needed it. I needed to take care of him and he needed to forget. He needed to be taken away somewhere where life wasn’t there to remind him of the shit that was now behind him. The humans who had left him behind. The lame attempts to make things right.

He had twisted his legs around my waist, my hands holding his face as I pressed my cock against his hole. Just nudging gently, hoping he would let me. Brushing my lips against his face, tasting tears on his skin.

He took it all with barely a sound as I pressed into him with no hesitation, just slid right home in one foul lubricated slide whilst his body tensed all around me and his mouth growled into my own.

He closed his eyes, his face scrunched up with the strain and emotion it all.

I kissed it. Kissed every little inch until his face was blissed out and relaxed again. Wet with my spit and his tears and our mouths fused in a kiss that seemed never ending.

Until I let go. Until I pulled out and slammed right back home. Until I fucked him so hard that I think I lost consciousness when I finally came. My mind all lost in blackness and static and my voice echoing through the darkness of the room. I have no idea what I was shouting. I have no idea why I was crying. Only that there was so much shit in my chest that I needed to get out and he was right there. That he was hurting, and I was hurting because he was hurting, and I didn’t know what to do to make it better more than fucking him.

So, I fucked him. Again, and again until I couldn’t come anymore. Until our bed was a mess of sex and sweat and bodies. Until he was asleep in my arms. The sun was just rising over the city outside the open window in our basement room. The breeze from outside kissing our skin with cool air.

 

He was a wealthy man. Well wealthy is the wrong word, but he had shit. He had all these papers lying on the kitchen table upstairs spelling it out in black and white. That the Uncle that abandoned him in a hospital bed, had died a few years back and had weirdly left him everything. Another human being who had passed away alone, with no one in his life to remember him. No one to grieve for him.

It had been such a waste, and fuck human beings. Fuck them all. Matteo had had nothing and this dude, fuck him, had had nothing either. I mean what was the point of living like he must have with no one to share it with? Just dying leaving it all to someone you had never even met.

 

Dad had said the word Guilt. Matteo had raged. Isak had hugged him. I had bit the inside of my mouth until it bleed.

 

Matteo wanted to donate it all to charity. Isak had grunted. Dad had smiled. I had banged my head against the kitchen table.

I don’t know why this is all coming back to me now when I am lying here with him naked against my chest, only that I know what he felt like that day. I know that what I did was right. That I gave him what he needed just like Matteo is giving me what I need right now.

I need to feel like I am his. Like there is nothing else in this world that will ever matter as long as we are together like this. Him against me. My legs lifting up so I can wrap them around him. His mouth on mine.

I need things to be fine, even when they are clearly not. I am heading into the eclipse of this episode, fluttering in in and out of being manic to thinking I am fine to hoping that it is over to realizing that it is not. I am not fine. I am a mess. I am screaming. My head is screaming. Everything is too loud. Everything is shattering around me, glass splintering in masses drowning my thoughts out with the shards hitting the floor all around me.

Then he presses into me, and he gives me exactly what I need. The pressure. The Pain. The feeling of him filling me up inside until my body is screaming with everything being too much.

It’s not too much. It’s just right. Dulling the voices and the noises and the emotions and filling my head with the sharpness and the stings I need to see things clearly.

So. I look up. Open my eyes and look into his eyes on top of me. His body covering mine, his cock rocking carefully inside of me. His eyes pinned on mine with his hair framing his face like a messy halo.

‘’Let me make you forget.’’ He whispers. ‘’Let me take you away with me for a little while. Let me fuck you until you forget everything. Let’s just be. You and me. This. This right here. Stay with me Pumpkin. ‘’

‘’I’m right here.’’ I whisper back.

‘’I know you are.’’ He says, letting his hips escalate the movements. Pulling out. Pushing in. Sliding in and out of me, switching on all those little nerve endings inside me, one by one.

‘’Take me with you.’’ I whisper. I don’t know what I mean, but I know he does. He gets me. He always does.

‘’I’m taking you with me.’’ He replies, with that little smile of his. ‘’I’m gonna fuck you until I am almost there, then I’ll jerk you off and make you come all over this beautiful chest of yours, and when you do, I’m gonna come so damn hard. I’m gonna fill you up with my come and make sure that you know that you are mine. Mine. My Pumpkin. ‘’ His voice is slurring a little. Late night and the beers from the party and the music no doubt still ringing in his ears.

There are a million things I could say back. I could bitch a little about him going out with his friends when I am at home in bed too fucked in the head to even get dressed. I could whine about being jealous. I could tell him I want him never ever to leave our bed ever again. I could easily flip him over and ride him whilst I jerk off all over him. I would as well, just to enjoy the rare view of his gorgeous chest on display beneath me whilst I paint his scars with my come.

I do neither. Because there is nothing I can do right now apart from hold on as he fucks me into oblivion. Until he has me blabbering and crying and slobbering over my hand, biting down on my fingers as my hips arch and my legs are shaking and his grip on my cock is like a damn vice, making sloppy sounds with all the lube he uses as I lose consciousness for a few blissed-out seconds. The world goes dark around me, and everything just stops.

And he is right there. Kissing me right though it whilst his own body tenses, riding himself through his orgasm as he fills me up. I can feel it. The pulse of him inside me even though I am barely there.

‘’I’m right here’’ He whispers into my mouth.

‘’So am I.’’ I say back.

We are right here. Right where we need to be.


	35. Elske

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Husk at all skjønnhet på jord bor i de evige ord: Jeg elsker deg.  
> Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although this takes place in a graveyard, it is not a sad chapter. I promise. x

Epilogue , Several years later .

‘’Was machen Sie den alle hier auf einem Deutchen Friedhof?’’

The lady must be in her 80ies, at least, hunched over with her hair tidily tucked under a headscarf, whilst curiously surveying the scene in front of her. Yeah. There is 8 of them. And yes, they are all family, and yes, they are brilliant, and the babies are so cute. No, they are not twins. Ellie is almost 2 even though she is small for her age and Christian is 3 months old. Yes, it’s crazy, and yes taking a 3-month-old to Berlin on a long weekend staying in a dodgy Airbnb. (it’s actually not dodgy at all and Even would quite happily stay for a week. Seriously.)

‘’Wie alt?’’ she asks, reaching out and stroking the soft curls on Tom’s head. Tom who is still clinging to Even like he does. His knuckles turning white with the effort of holding on as Even gently holds him close.

‘’Acht’’ Even replies in his best school German. He’s fucked. At least he has managed to get the hang of ordering ‘’Milchkaffee’’ in the cafés which is a vast improvement on having to live off Latte’s. And when he thinks about it he is quite proud. He understood that. The lady asked ‘How old?’ and he replied with eight. Tom is eight. Acht. He nods approvingly whilst the lady looks at him like he is expected to tell her more. Explain. He can’t.

It’s too complicated and raw and emotional to explain to a stranger who hasn’t seen them live through the last couple of years. She wouldn’t understand the raw grief on Matteo’s face when they finally found the right place. The strangled cry of seeing the names etched on the plain gravestone. It’s a beautiful place, next to a clearing in the woodland, surrounded by other stones and trees swaying gently in the breeze.

Eleonora Florenzi and Eduardo Druckheim. Not even a date, just their names.

Max had walked off, clearly needing a moment to get himself under control. He’s good at dealing with the anxious part of himself these days, keeping his emotions in check and calming himself down with some well-practiced routines. But right now, Even could do with getting him back here so he can deal with this lady. Because Isak is no help at all standing there with Christian fast asleep in the baby sling laughing softly at Even’s awkward discomfort.

‘’Die Mutter….’’ Even starts. He knows that is ’The Mother’. But he hasn’t got a clue how to say ’Father’, or ‘Parents’ because his knowledge of German is simply the tiny snippets his brain seems to remember from school. So instead he blurts out  ’’Ist da.’’ Whilst pointing to the headstone where Matteo is still sat on the ground rocking Ellie gently in his arms. Matteo needs this. He needs to sit there alone so he can talk, and spill out the words that have been crushing him for years and introduce his family. One by one. They had left him in peace with Ellie, so he could have this. A moment of peace. Back where he had always belonged, next to his parents.

‘’Um Himmels Willen, diese armen Kinder! So ganz ohne Mutter!’’ The lady lets her hands hurl abuse at the sky, then tearfully reaches out to grab Iben’s shocked face, giving her a little pat on her cheek.

Even would laugh if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s not funny at all. Well apart from Iben doing a damn fine job of not being rude and obnoxious and kind of trying to smile. She’s trying. And thank God for Max who deals with the lady like a pro, not even trying to correct her distraught ramblings of the Father with all the children whose Mother had left them too soon, and how she was in Heaven watching her little angels from above. Max just nodded and gave her a polite kiss on the cheek rattling away in his near perfect German. And Even is proud. He is so immensely proud of his son. His oldest really, because he has quite a few sons now. And a daughter.

‘’Dad can we leave now? I’m bored.’’

‘’Shut it Tom.’’

‘’Why is there no Ice cream shop here? There should be an ice cream place. And a café. I want cake. Like those twirl things we had for breakfast.’’

‘’They’re not cake, they’re pretzels you idiot.’’

That’s Iben. Child from hell. Well she’s 17 and a teenager and she’s pouty and grumpy and rolls her eyes better than Max ever did but Isak just smiles and thinks, fuck me. She’s my kid and I think I love her. Despite her being the most obnoxious of girls.

She had arrived on a dark winters night aged 13, covered in makeup, highly strung and with an attitude that made Even cry. She also lied constantly, stole anything not nailed down and told her social worker that Max was her boyfriend. Poor Max dealt with that shitstorm surprisingly well. Isak remembers being irrationally proud of him, how he repeatedly sat Iben down and talked to her. Reasoned with her fucked up ideas of life and told her she was his baby sister and she should pack it in with the attitude.

She gave him a black eye, right there on the kitchen floor, whilst he had just sighed and told her she was being stupid. That the only thing he was there to do was to teach her how to be a good sibling. Because she didn’t understand how to love herself, let alone the kid who was apparently her biological younger brother who arrived on their doorstep 2 weeks later. Iben and Tom. Right now, Isak can’t even remember a time when they weren’t his kids. When he wasn’t a father and someone important. Important enough that people relied on him. Loved him even.

Tom had some serious attachment issues, scaring Even to tears by just walking off if you didn’t stop him. He picked the bolt on the front door. Climbed out windows. Disappeared with not a care in the world how he would survive. It had been draining o them to the point of late night arguments where Isak to be honest had been ready to throw in the towel and make the dreaded phone call to social services to admit defeat. They had been prepared for hard work, fostering older kids. Matteo had warned them, talked them through the little tricks and mind games and attitudes. Nothing prepared them for Iben. Nothing. Then they agreed to take Tom too, hoping the bond between siblings would help settle her. It had been awful. More than awful.

He doesn’t remember when things changed for the better, but they did. Iben and Max somehow came to a truce and started to talk. Properly. Max and Matteo took her out for ‘Sibling dates’’. Iben apologized for smashing up Max’s bookcase. Things smoothed out and Isak held his breath for months, just waiting for the next disaster. It never came.

Well apart from that Tom became obsessed with Even and wouldn’t leave his side, crying like a bloodthirsty zombie when they tried to enrol him in the local school, kicking and scratching until he would exhaust himself into a blubbering mess. It took a while, but they have Tom’s issues under control now, apart from that he sleeps on Even’s chest most nights which is a small price to pay for a well-rested child and a peaceful nights sleep now that Even has cut down on the nightshifts and they have Max and Matteo helping out again. They have moved back home, making the house a totally overcrowded shithole of a dump full of shoes and clothes and stuff everywhere but Isak wouldn’t have it any other way. If someone had asked him years ago about having a family he would probably have said, well, maybe one well behaved child and a dog. Not a menagerie of kids that make his life hell. Total hell.

He loves it. He really does.

Not that they get to have much sex anymore, apart from the odd Saturday morning when Max or Matteo will creep upstairs and silently remove Christian from his cot, bribing Tom with pancakes and TV downstairs if he will just let the Daddies sleep in. Well there is rarely much sleep after that, just inhibited unhinged shagging until they are both sweaty and sore. Smiling smugly for the rest of the day whilst the kids just roll their eyes.

Matteo never became a social worker, instead he somehow landed himself a role in a German TV-Soap, where ‘’Theodore’’, his character became so popular that his 4-week contract became a year until ‘’Theodore’’ got done for murder and thrown in jail. Matteo has been back to resurrect Theodore yearly, breaking out of jail and robbing a bank. He’s a dangerous kid and Matteo is now some kind of teen superstar in Central Europe. Not that he felt like it whilst living in a small rented basement in a house outside Frankfurt. Max had gone with him from the start, Matteo wouldn’t accept the contract until it was all set in stone that Max would come too. So Matteo had worked and Max had studied German, gotten involved with a local drama group and somehow had a year full to the brim of firsts. First year free of an episode. First year he managed to go more than a week between panic attacks. First year living away from home. The first year of distance Uni Studies, where he had completed his coursework on time and made a good start on his degree. He had kept up his therapy, taken his meds, eaten well and been loved, and somehow that had been enough. It had been more than enough. Max Bech now worked for Oslo City council as a foster care advisor, coupled with The youth theatre group for children in care that Matteo runs inbetween acting jobs. He’s done well. He’s done more than well.

It had been Max’s idea, and Isak can’t help but hug his baby son snuggled up against his chest as he remembers the conversations. Max brilliant plan. Matteo smiling. Isak nodding. Even bursting into tears.

Matteo didn’t want to buy a property with the inheritance that burnt a hole of guilt in his bank account. He didn’t want to live in a house paid for by something that brought him grief. Well Max had sat them all down around the kitchen table and said he had a plan. A brilliant plan to turn things around and spend the money on something that would be made from love. Something that would bring them peace and happiness and stop the chain of tragedy that Matteo couldn’t seem to let go off. They would use the money to make a baby. Well they would both be the parents, but Max was adamant that the child needed to be Matteo’s biological kid, and that they would go to America and use a surrogate. They would use the money to make a family.

And they had. They had researched and travelled and organized and thought it through and Max had sat through endless assessments to get approved. They would be fine. There was no question in anyone’s mind that Max and Matteo would move back home, because the small basement flat that now sports a kitchen with a table, a huge glazed veranda that they are planning to turn into a permanent summer room, and the bedroom with the colourful graffiti still splattered on the wall, now houses a pink cot and a floor full of toys. Eleonora Bech is a lucky little girl. Loved and cuddled and spoiled rotten. And she was also the sole reason for Isak’s drunk phone call to America for the go ahead for him and Even to have a child. Even had begged. Isak had said they had enough kids in the house. He had given in, fuelled by love and the warmth of the man who was lying on top of him at the time fucking him absolutely senseless. Christian Isak Bech was born a year later, and Isak can’t even begin to describe the ache in his chest remembering the first time he held his son. Their son.

Which brings them back to where they are, all of them. All 8 of the Bech clan. Yes, because they are quite a family now, a force to be reckoned with. The talk of the neighbourhood, with snide looks the odd comment that Iben will promptly shut down with one of her stares. They are family.  ‘We’re all crazies’ as she will shout out giving Isak one of her awkward attempts at hugs. She’s still not a tactile person, but she is getting there. She is letting people in now, allowing herself to just be, which is a huge step forward from the scared shell of a girl she once was.

It had been Even’s idea, to all go and put some ghosts to rest, and let Matteo try to heal.

Not that he was broken, but there was still a small part of him that kept splintering, something fragile that Even thought maybe going home would perhaps start to fix. Well home and home, Matteo had just rolled his eyes when Even had first mentioned it. A long weekend away to the city where Matteo had once been born, an Airbnb apartment on the eastern side of the river, with a park and café opposite, a stone throw from one of the city trams and a perfect start for a day out. As a family. To Berlin. He had laughed in their faces and gone downstairs without even a reply. Then come back up an hour later with tears in his eyes.

Matteo. He is Isak’s kid. He always was, it just took a little time to see it. He says it all the time now, grabs the kid, who is tall and lanky and still refuses to cut his hair into anything that resembles a hairstyle, but has the kindest heart and holds Isak’s heart in his grip.  ‘’You’re my kid, remember that.’’ He says softly whilst ruffling Matteo’s hair and smashing a kiss on his forehead. He is. Whilst Matteo will nod and rub his eye, like he has got something in it. It’s good. They are both good. It’s something they both need, knowing that they belong.

 

And they all do belong. Tom grabbing Matteo’s hand as he walks out of the clearing letting Ellie run ahead of him. Tom chatting excitedly dragging Matteo off to show him the bug that lives under the bench, Iben moaning about the lack of network on her phone, Christian filling his nappy with content grunts and Even giving Isak a soft kiss on the lips.

‘’He looks OK?’’ He questions, looking at Isak with that look that makes him fall in love with Even all over again. Because Even is the kindest person Isak has ever met. The funniest idiot on the planet. The most ridiculous human being. And he is all Isak’s. All his. And this Even loves him, to the moon and back. Every fucking minute of the day.

‘’He’s OK. Give him an hour to process and he will be back on track dragging us all off to some ridiculous place he has read about on TripAdvisor. ‘’

‘’Ugh. The Best Sauerkraut in Berlin was not good. However many stars TripAdvisor gave it I am not having that shit again.’’  Even makes a face and Isak kisses him. Again, and Again.

‘’You do realize our son has pooped, don’ t you?’’  Yeah, and now they are doing that embarrassing parenting thing again. Even trying to sniff Christian’s Nappy whilst Isak holds the baby sling out from his chest saying a little prayer that the nappy hasn’t leaked onto his shirt. Because he has already used the spare he carries in the backpack, after an incident involving Tom, a bottle of ketchup and a wobbly pot of strawberry jam over breakfast.

‘’Yup. It’s a poop. Would it be wrong to change him in a Graveyard?’’ Isak says quietly whilst looking around.

‘’Nah, Max is letting Ellie do a wee wee against the tree over there. I doubt anyone will mind. Do you want me to do it?’’  Even whispers in his ear, whilst letting his hands stroke down Isak’s arms.

‘’Nah, I’m good.’’ Isak smiles and lets the back-pack fall to the ground. ‘’Hand me the mat will you?’’

‘’We need to buy another pack of wipes later today.’’

‘’Yeah, and we are running low on nappies. We could buy some and take home I suppose.’’

‘’I think we need to take Tom for ice cream before he throws a fit. I have been promising Tom Ice cream today, since we didn’t have dessert last night. ‘’

‘’We should go back to that cheesecake place, you know with the gourmet coffee?’’

‘’The one where Ellie wee’d on the floor? No thanks. I think they probably have our pictures on the wall to make sure we are barred from the place. ‘’

‘’Ah, yeah. Forgot about that.’’

‘’Dad, the best ice cream place near here is two stops on the bus then a 15-minute walk, but it’s down hill according to the map, so shall we give it a try?’’

‘’Ice cream?’’ Even shakes his head and pulls Matteo in for a hug. ‘’Yeah, go on. We can manage 15 minutes’ walk. Can’t we?’’

‘’Yeah. We can. For Ice cream we can manage anything.’’

He’s still a little weary. Tugging at the hair on his head.

‘’We’re all here.’’ Even says softly. ‘’Everyone you love is right here, and we all love you right back.’’

‘’I know.’’ Matteo says quietly.

‘’Do you want to stay a bit longer?’’

‘’No. I want to get Tom his ice cream and then I want to go to that bar by the river, you know the big lawn we saw on the boat tour yesterday? I want to go there and sit on the grass and watch the kids play and just be. Can we do that? Just be us. Our family. Have a few beers and laugh and be silly. ‘’

‘’We can do that. ‘’ Even just catches Isak’s smile on the ground as he carefully wraps the nappy in a bag. Bio degradable. Of course. They gave up on the cloth nappies after a week, Isak throwing the damn soaking bucket in the bin outside with a disgusted grunt.

A couple of beers on a lawn. The kids playing around. Being happy.

They can do that. They can definitely do that.


	36. Åbne vande - The End.

 

I have always been terrified of water. Especially large outdoor pools and lakes and the fucking sea. I remember it vividly as a kid, Dad trying to get me to dip my toes in the freezing shite and all the sand and the sharp rocks and me screaming like he was trying to axe- murder me in public on a warm summer’s day.

I’m still not keen on that wet shite, honestly, but I am getting better. I have learnt a lot over the last couple of years, and I have pushed myself to be braver. To not be so scared. To try to overcome things. Well I developed a total fear of changing nappies when Ellie was born but Matteo soon cured me of that idea. I’m a pro at changing nappies now, even though Isak claims to be the ultimate nappy master.

 

Nappies. We got Ellie dry when she was two and now we are heading right back into that shit.

 

She’s gorgeous. Stunning. Thick dark hair and Matteo’s sparkling eyes coupled with a fiery temper that suits her European roots. She speaks German like a native, and her Oslo twang she is picking up from day-care is just hilarious. She rocks. She is the funniest thing. She’s my daughter. Our daughter.

They are just at the edge of the beach, not too far out, doing handstands in the water whilst laughing and splashing. Matteo in his wet t-shirt and trunks and Ellie in a hot pink bikini. It’s ridiculous, but she chose it herself even though I did push for a sensible blue swimming costume. It had stars on it. It was really pretty, I kept telling her whilst she pouted and held on tight to the pink monstrosity she now wears to our little outings to the beach. I'm a crap Dad sometimes but I honestly don't give a shit.

 

I try to concentrate on that, on Ellie and her bikini and her voice and laughter, rather than the mass of water in front of me. It’s not threatening. It won’t turn into a tsunami and take everything away from me. I won’t drown. Not today.

Instead I find myself standing next to a small rockpool, just by the grass. A small patch of sand filled with rocks and water, like something a child would have made.

I don’t go near the water. I still can’t swim. I’ve not had a bath since I was a very small child.

 

Yet I dip my toes in the cold stuff. Swirl it around and take a small step into the sandy patch.

It’s cold. Fucking freezing.

There is panic brewing in my chest, but I swallow it down and put my other foot right into the water.

Yeah, it’s probably pathetic, but I am trying here.

I stand there in the tiny puddle, letting my toes wriggle in the sand. It’s not nice. It’s a bit strange, the rocks and the sand and the cool water between my toes.

 

I took a child into protective custody yesterday, in an unstable operation where I was flanked by Police and several colleagues, but still. I can handle dangerous situations. I can deal with hysterical people, drug addicts, and people with severe mental health issues. People who just don’t care. People who care too much. I can handle children paralyzed with fear. I can handle teenagers so full of attitude and anger that they are about to combust. I can deal with that.

 

Yet I stand here having heart palpitations over a puddle of water.

 

I don’t notice him coming at first, just the slide of his cold wet skin against my back. A kiss on my shoulder and his wet body cooling me down.

‘’One day at a time.’’ He whispers in my ear.

He’s my everything. My rock. My support. My amazing baby. He’s still an idiot, and I am still the most jealous shithead on the planet, but we fit. We always did.

‘’I love you.’’ I say back, then clap my hands and cheer at Ellie who is shouting for us to watch her in the water.

 

I love him more than anything. Well I love Ellie too, but she is my daughter, I kind of have no choice there. She is part of me. She is nothing like me but at the same time she has my heart in a vice like grip. She get’s my obsessions. She calms me down. She clings to me and shushes softly when everything becomes a little too much. She tells Matteo to look after me when she goes to day-care, because she can’t always keep an eye on me when she has other things to do. She’s smart. She’s ridiculously clever.

 

And she will make the best big sister in the world, when our little one arrives. Yes. We’re having another baby, a little boy due in 3 months, another trip to America to see our amazing surrogate mum Kelsey, who is doing us the honour of birthing us our son. Eduardo Matteo Bech.

‘’Look at me Daddy!!!’’ Ellie shouts as she flips over in the water, doing another crazy attempt at a handstand.

‘’She’s fine Pumpkin.’’ Matteo shushes at me as I shiver with unrest. ‘’She can swim. And I am right here. I’m always right here. ‘’

‘’And you will never let anything happen to us.’’ I fill in.  He always says it. He says his life has been so full of shit that Karma would never let anything bad happen to him ever again. That he is the safest person to hang out with on the planet. That he is the luckiest man in the world. He says his life is charmed, full of amazing things. Full of love.

 

And I agree with him. Our life is pretty amazing. It doesn’t really get any better.

**Open water!** by poet Bjornstjerne Bjornson
    
    
    Open water, open water!
    All the weary winter's yearning
    Bursts in restless passion burning.
    Scarce is seen the blue of ocean,
    And the hours seem months in motion.
    
    Open water, open water!
    Smiles the sun on ice defiant,
    Eats it like a shameless giant:
    Soon as mouth of sun forsakes it,
    Swift the freezing night remakes it.
    
    Open water, open water!
    Storm shall be the overcomer
    Sweeping on from others' summer
    Billows free all foes to swallow,-
    Crash and fall and sinking follow.
    
    Open water, open water!
    Mirrored mountains are appearing,
    Boats with steam and sail are nearing,
    Inward come the wide world's surges,
    Outward joy of combat urges.
    
    Open water, open water!
    Fiery sun and cooling shower
    Quicken earth to speak with power.
    Soul responds, the wonder viewing:
    Strength is here for life's renewing.  
    
      
    
    

#  Åbne vande!

 Åbne vande, åbne vande!  
Hele vintrens lange længsel,  
nu den bliver helt til trængsel:  
Næppe ses en sjø-blå strime; -  
som en måned er hvær time.  
  
 Åbne vande, åbne vande!  
Solen smiler, isen trodser,  
nyder den som skamløs frådser:  
Knap har solens mund forladt den,  
og den fryser til om natten.  
  
 Åbne vande, åbne vande!  
Storm må til, og stormen kommer,  
skyller fræm fra andres sommer  
frie bølger, stærke bølger, -  
brag og bråt og synkning følger.  
  
 Åbne vande, åbne vande!  
Atter luft og bærg sig spejler;  
der en damper, her en sejler,  
in ad bruser bud fra verden,  
ud ad mod en kamp-stor færden.  
  
 Åbne vande, åbne vande!  
Solen ildner, regnen svaler,  
jorden rejser sig og taler.  
Sjælen svarer, skælver, lyer,  
kraften er der, som fornyer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you. What more can I say? If you stuck with this fic to the end, well done you!!! 
> 
> I have absolutly loved writing this, it was a silly idea but it grew into this monster, and I love it. Absolutly and wholeheartedly. 
> 
> Thank you for putting up with my non-original characters, my out-of-charachter Even and Isak, my silly ideas and my sometimes foul writing language. 
> 
> Thank you for commenting, kudosing, jodeling and messaging. I can't say it enough, it makes me insanely happy that you are enjoying my stories ( and sometimes not enjoying them at all, but that is fine too.) 
> 
> BIG squishy hugs to Evak4ever and Pagnilagni and Delongpaw and Lovethem2121 who bailed me out of my messy thoughts on more than one occasion.
> 
> There are too many of you who comment to mention, I freaking adore hearing your thoughts. Massive kudos to Erika1991 who has been reading my fics from the very start and always make me smile. HaveyouEver, Itco, who comes up with the LOL comments. Holmelka who is just lovely, MommaSkam, I'mABird who makes my day when you comment, Howmanyevenandisaks who push me to keep going, and... well. All of you. Seriously. Thank you. 
> 
> I am now going to have a tiny fic holiday, but there will be a new fic dropping for the Reverse Big Bang in August, and I am going to finish Infinity next and then? Well there will be a Adventcalendar fic through out December, and you know me. Suddenly there will be a new idea (or two) and I will be right back dropping ridiculous chapters......
> 
> Come and say hi on social media. I am @sophiasoames on all platforms. 
> 
> All the love, always. S xxx


	37. Cover art by Lovethem2121

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lovely Lovethem2121 made me some awesome cover art for Open Water. I might have cried a little. 
> 
> Go follow her on Tumblr for more awesomeness! Find her here: http://mu-zi-light.tumblr.com/

<http://mu-zi-light.tumblr.com/>

All credit for artwork to @Lovethem2121


	38. Valter Torsleff Appreciation post

Since I used alot of visuals for this fic (I use massive moodboards on Pinterest for my stories) I started off using random models for ''Max''. Once I found Valter, I kind of knew he was what I had been looking for. He is Even Bech Naesheim's son in every single photo, and my muse for this story.

The real life Valter Torsleff burst on to the modelling scene at the tender age of 14, and with his angelic androgynous face and messy hair he became an instant supermodel. Valter is all grown up now, but still models and works behind the scenes as a retoucher.

 

 


End file.
